


A Guide to the Intentional Misuse of Potions: Wolf Edition

by ButchTheDoggo, Squeakerblue



Series: Potions and the Misuse Thereof: A Study by Jaskier Pankratz [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Lambert (The Witcher), Come Eating, Cult of Kate, Deepthroating, Enthusiastic Consent, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Kink Negotiation, Kissing, Knotting, Large Cock, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Rope Bondage, Sickness, Subdrop, Subspace, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Lambert (The Witcher), Top Vesemir (The Witcher), Witcher Potions (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButchTheDoggo/pseuds/ButchTheDoggo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakerblue/pseuds/Squeakerblue
Summary: Upon learning about Geralt's "big" secret, Jaskier spends his first winter in Kaer Morhen discovering all sorts of other little secrets and tricks. From how to best get Lambert, Eskel and Geralt whimpering to the wonderful side uses of their potions. It's going to be an interesting (and busy) winter.“Come on, Jaskier!” Geralt hissed out as Jaskier dug hurriedly through the Witcher’s potion bag, looking for the tin of salve they’d picked up in the last town. He glanced behind him at the Witcher, who was stroking his cock lightly, before twisting his hand and groaning lowly. Jaskier hurriedly dug deeper and his hand felt several tiny bottles before...there, the tin! He pulled his hand out, grasping the tin triumphantly and made a curious noise when he noticed the row of tiny, tiny bottles of teal-colored liquid, all tied together with a bit of thread that was caught under the lid of the tin.“What?” Geralt asked, the slick sound of his hand around his cock making Jaskier’s ears twitch.“What are these?” Jaskier peered at the bottles as he pulled the thread loose and held them up. “They look like miniature versions of your potions.”
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert/Vesemir, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert/Vesemir, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, and all variations of the before
Series: Potions and the Misuse Thereof: A Study by Jaskier Pankratz [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000605
Comments: 98
Kudos: 397





	1. Darling, What's This?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this monstrosity. We really appreciate it.  
> The tags will be updated as they appear and each chapter note will list the tags relevant to that chapter.  
> Relevant tags: Kissing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Misunderstandings, Handjobs, Multiple Orgasms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
> 
> Update and Edit: Daddy Kink has been removed as a tag as it does not apply in the traditional form for this fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers the use of Micropotions by Witchers. Geralt tries to hide the truth and pays a minor price. (He enjoys it anyway)

“Come on, Jaskier!” Geralt hissed out as Jaskier dug hurriedly through the Witcher’s potion bag, looking for the tin of salve they’d picked up in the last town. He glanced behind him at the Witcher, who was stroking his cock lightly, before twisting his hand and groaning lowly. Jaskier hurriedly dug deeper and his hand felt several tiny bottles before...there, the tin! He pulled his hand out, grasping the tin triumphantly and made a curious noise when he noticed the row of tiny, tiny bottles of teal-colored liquid, all tied together with a bit of thread that was caught under the lid of the tin.

“What?” Geralt asked, the slick sound of his hand around his cock making Jaskier’s ears twitch. 

“What are these?” Jaskier peered at the bottles as he pulled the thread loose and held them up. “They look like miniature versions of your potions.” There was no answer, so Jaskier looked back, and caught the look of embarrassment that flashed over Geralt’s face. The Witcher couldn’t blush, but Jaskier had been with him long enough to be able to read the tiniest of facial expressions, and that was definitely embarrassment, with a hint of...fear? What did the Witcher have to fear from some tiny little bottles?

  
Jaskier opened his mouth to ask another question but Geralt chose that moment to rock his hips up and drop his free hand to the hidden depths between his legs. Jaskier’s brain skipped and he dove at the delicious Witcher waiting for him on the bedroll, completely ignoring the tiny bottles that fell to lay in the dust. The tin of salve was put to good use. 

* * *

Jaskier completely forgot about the tiny bottles for weeks between several lucrative contracts. Including one extended stay at a very minor Lord’s hunting cabin while clearing out several nests of Drowners, a handful of Harpy nests, and one very tricky Water Hag that had led Geralt on a chase for most of a day.

They’d barely had time to relax and recover, even at the cabin, because said minor Lord insisted on staying at the cabin as well. He “had an important hunting trip coming up, you see.” He would repeat it...Every...Bloody...Morning, for the whole week they were there. That had left Jaskier to entertain the Lordling for the week, which did allow him to catch up on Court gossip, but was intensely draining on his mood and reminded him yet again why he was a traveling bard and not back home in Lettenhove. Unsurprisingly, the foppish Lord hadn’t recognized him. 

At the end of the week, Geralt and Jaskier both were more than happy to take the heavy sack of coin and leave the irritating Lord in the dust. Geralt had even pulled him up on Roach to get away faster. 

Now, with full purses and full bellies, they relaxed in a mostly accommodating inn near the base of the mountains Kaer Morhen rested in. The innkeeper had demanded double for the room, but Jaskier had haggled the stubborn man down to the cost and a half if he played for the night they planned on staying before moving on. The man had accepted grudgingly, knowing it would be the last non-local music the inn would get until spring. It was nearly the end of autumn, the first hints of true cold whipping through the trees, and Geralt had finally invited Jaskier to the keep for the winter. 

It had only taken two years of sharing a bedroll and one _very_ long and lonely winter apart to convince Geralt to ask him. That spring had been very, very enjoyable, however, and they hadn’t left his rooms at Oxenfurt for a whole week. 

The heavy purses meant warm clothes for Jaskier - he’d been warned the keep was cold and drafty and his fine silks would do a shitty job of keeping him warm - and plenty of supplies for the keep, as well as a few luxury items like apples and berries spelled to keep fresh and several jars of preserved fruits. Luckily, the townsfolk had been far more used to Witchers and haggled for their wares fairly. 

Geralt had packed their supplies in a sturdy wagon that the stableman pulled out of a barn once they arrived in town. Apparently, they had use of it for the rest of the year, and the Witchers used it for supplies to stock up for the winter. With the wagon mostly packed, they returned to the inn and their suppers to wait on the last bits of the supplies, primarily Jaskier’s new clothing, to be readied.

Jaskier watched his Witcher as the other man wolfed down his stew, and the barmaid, a nice older woman, served him another bowl that was eaten with more chance to taste it. Geralt had been uncharacteristically nervous as they had approached the small town. Not that anyone else would have noticed, but Jaskier had seen the furrowed brow, the restless gaze that kept glancing from him to the trees and back again. Not to mention the tense seat that had Roach turning her head and nipping at the Witcher’s toes every so often. 

The other man was worried about something and clearly didn’t want to tell Jaskier. The bard mentally shrugged, he’d work it out of Geralt, one way or another. Jaskier had to get on stage soon and he was sure the rest of the evening would be spent either sleeping or fucking. This would be his last chance to pull it out of Geralt and the longer he stewed the worse it was going to be. “Spit it out. You’ve been off all day,” Jaskier said. 

“Nothing’s off. I’m fine.” Geralt said dismissively. 

“Yeah? And I’m a toad. Geralt, I’m not here to judge you. The quicker you tell me the quicker everything can go back to being normal. Especially if this is going to impact your winter up at the keep.” Geralt stayed silent and Jaskier huffed, “Fine,” before getting up and grabbing his lute. There was only so long that Geralt could stew in his own silence before things came to a head.

Geralt had always been fairly good at making Jaskier forget that he was upset with him. This was especially true when he shot the bard a filthy smirk before heading upstairs to their room while he was packing up from his set. Jaskier hurriedly stuffed his lute in its case, snatching up the coin purse, before rushing up the stairs. He burst into the room and spotted Geralt on the bed, his head tipped back as he took a potion. The bottle was smaller than his usual potions, the same size as the ones he’d seen weeks ago, and there was one more in his hand, a teal blue. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jaskier demanded. Geralt looked embarrassed at having been caught and tried to stuff the potion away. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Like hell it’s nothing,” Jaskier ground out. His hands settled on his hips as he glared down at Geralt. The Witcher sighed defeatedly. 

“It's… just...” Geralt looked at the little bottle in his hand.

Hurt flashed over Jaskier’s face. “Geralt… have you been… have you been drugging yourself to sleep with me?” Tears filled his eyes. “Am I that repulsive? Do you even want me? Or is this some sort of debt you're trying to repay?” 

Geralt startled and looked at Jaskier in confusion. “Of course not. I just don’t want to hurt you. I take them so that I come faster and I don’t have to go as many rounds as usual.”

“You take the potions,” Jaskier said slowly, “So that you don’t hurt me. Because you think I can’t handle it?” 

There’s a pause where Jaskier can practically see the gears in Geralt’s head turning. “Better safe than sorry. Humans are fragile,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and counted to ten before letting out the most long-suffering sigh and asked, “Why don’t you let me decide what I can and can’t handle. Is this what had you all weird before?” There was a minute nod from Geralt and, despite the obvious awkwardness of the conversation, Jaskier could see the very obvious tent in Geralt’s pants.

“I… partly? There’s a… the keep is...” Geralt fumbled with his words, rolling the remaining bottle in his hands. He took a breath. “The keep is different from the outside world, very different.” He shifted uncomfortably as his cock visibly twitched.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. ”I certainly hope that it’s different, I wouldn’t expect it’s the same as any court winter. Gods, I hope not.” He moved and sat by the bed, plucking the little bottle from Geralt’s hand. “So, what does this do?”

Geralt ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “That one, it's a microdose of Blizzard, makes orgasms feel longer.”

Jaskier raised his other eyebrow. “And the one you took?”

“Uhh, that was Wolf. It makes us more… sensitive, so we can come easier.” 

An idea flitted across Jaskier’s brain and he smirked. “Hmmm… I’m still upset with you for hiding this, but I think I know  _ exactly  _ what to do to punish you.” He pushed Geralt flat onto his back, plucking the teal bottle from his hand and putting it on the table.

Geralt wanted to protest and say that there was nothing to punish him for, but he couldn’t. He knew exactly what he had done and he was relieved that Jaskier isn’t more upset or put off by it. Jaskier moved to straddle Geralt’s thick thighs, eyes on his face as he took him in. 

“You know what to say if you want to stop. But I think you’ll take your punishment nicely, won’t you?” Jaskier cooed, hand reaching up to stroke the Witcher’s stubbled cheek. Geralt nodded and let Jaskier tug his shirt off and fling it across the room.

Blue eyes stared into cat-like yellow ones as Jaskier shifted enough that he hovered over Geralt’s erection. “You don’t get to come until I say so, and every time you get close I want you to tell me. If you come before I tell you to, I will not touch you for a week,” Jaskier told him. 

“Yes,” Geralt said, barely a whisper as he fixed his eyes on Jaskier. 

“Good.” Jaskier shifted enough so that he could pull down Geralt’s breeches to mid-thigh, preventing the Witcher from spreading his legs. He reached for the tin of slick Geralt had so thoughtfully set out and opened it, slicking up his hand. Jaskier tossed the tin aside and wrapped his hand loosely around Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt moaned and tried to thrust up, but was caught between his pants and Jaskier’s knee suddenly pressing into his hip. “Ah, ah, ah, behave.” Jaskier tightened his grip and began to move quickly, taking Geralt by surprise. The Witcher bucked on the bed and groaned. “Oh, this is gonna be a long night for you, love.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier and Jaskier found it hard to tell if those scrunched brows were in pleasure or frustration. “Jaskier,” Geralt growled. 

“Yes, darling?” Jaskier asked, punctuating the question with a firm grasp and a few quick strokes. Whatever Geralt was going to say was lost as his head tipped back in a moan. Jaskier suddenly slowed his hand, loosening his grip so it just barely brushed over the hot flesh.

Geralt groaned, “Jaskier… I...” Jaskier twisted his palm over the head of his cock and the words were lost in a choking gasp. 

“How long, Geralt? How long have you been taking those potions to sleep with me?” Jaskier reached his free hand out, giving Geralt’s nipple a vicious twist that caused the other man to arch up off the bed. The Witcher could only gasp in answer and Jaskier smirked to himself. Two years of learning every tender spot and erogenous zone were going to prove handy tonight.

Geralt tried to get his brain to cooperate, but every time he nearly got there, Jaskier would do something that sent his thoughts scattering again. “Jaskier… Please…” he managed to get out.

“How. Long?” Jaskier pulled his hands away completely, leaving Geralt exposed to the cool air of the room. The Witcher shuddered and twitched, and Jaskier smirked.

“Two years,” Geralt said quickly. “I didn’t…”

Jaskier cut him off, “I know. Do you use them elsewhere? Say when you sleep with a whore?” Jaskier put his hand back on Geralt’s cock but didn’t stroke him, just kept a loose circle around it.

“Yes,” Geralt took a deep shuddery breath. “At the keep. And at brothels.” 

Geralt looked up at Jaskier pleadingly and was rewarded for his answers with Jaskier starting to stroke his cock again. “I’m not done with you yet, Wolf,” Jaskier warned, eyes still retaining that commanding edge. “Are there other potions?” At Geralt’s nod, he continued, “Tell me about them.” 

He couldn’t, there was no way he could put together enough of a mind to remember anything past Jaskier and the wet slide around his cock. But then Jaskier stopped and Geralt’s brain started to piece itself back together. “Tell me.”

“Maribor Forest,” Geralt said, gasping as Jaskier gave him a firm stroke. “Endurance.” Another stroke in reward. “Wolf, sensi _tivity_.” He yelped the second half of the word, as Jaskier twisted his hand and flicked a nipple at the same time.

“Tawny Owl… short refractory time… Swallow… increases--” Geralt half bowed on the bed. “--increases… how much we…” Jaskier got the gist of it and nodded, motioning for Geralt to continue. “Full… Moon. It gives us a knot, like wolves.” Geralt was practically whining at this point, voice trailing off and breaking. 

Jaskier slowed his hand, just teasing at the velvety head of Geralt’s cock. “And the rest?”

Geralt heaved a few breaths, struggling to get himself under control, he could do this. “Blizzard… makes orgasms seem longer. Thunderbolt. Makes us bigger.” He moaned as Jaskier started moving again, a slow steady pace that was utterly tormenting. “Oriole, makes us taste good. Whale… the usual effect. White… Raffards… it's... GODS JASKIER!” Geralt shouted as Jaskier slid a hand down and squeezed his balls. 

“White Raffard’s?” Jaskier prompted as though nothing had happened.

“Instant erection!” Geralt moaned. “That's it, that’s all of them! Please Jaskier, let me come...” Geralt begged, trying to rock his hips.

“Not yet, love. What about Cat, Rook, and the others.”

“We tried, they didn’t work. Don’t know why… Please Jaskier… I’m sorry.” 

“I believe you,” Jaskier cooed and a hopeful look settled across Geralt’s face. “Are you close?” Geralt nodded quickly, breath coming in rapid pants. “Gonna spill without even a hand on you?” Geralt wasn’t quite sure what Jaskier meant by that and couldn’t string together enough brain cells to ask.

“Come for me, Geralt, and then maybe I’ll let you up,” Jaskier told him. With permission given, it was only a few more hard strokes before Geralt was coming with a choked gasp. Jaskier pulled his hand away and watched as Geralt spilled across his chest and hips, making an utter mess of himself. Geralt’s own hands were fisting the sheets at his side, unable to do more than clench and unclench as his cock jerked and throbbed into the open air. 

Geralt wasn’t given enough time to figure out why Jaskier would do something like that when he was being touched again. Jaskier roughly gripped his cock and stroked it hard, barely giving Geralt a chance to go soft. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Jaskier,” Geralt moaned as he writhed, not sure if he was trying to push up into that cruel hand or get away from it. “I can’t…”

“But you can… Don’t you want to come again?” Jaskier asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness. He wasn’t actually mad anymore, if anything, he was intrigued. His mind was already whirring with ideas on how to use those little potions. Geralt was a self-sacrificing idiot, but he’d known that for years. This… this had potential. 

Nodding quickly, Geralt looked up at Jaskier. Jaskier’s face had lost the hard edge of control, eyes glittering with mischief, and he could see the way the bard’s own cock pressed against his pants. “I think this winter is going to be a lot of fun,” Jaskier said with a smirk and stunningly vicious twist of his hand.

Geralt moaned, it was going to be a long night but damn if he wasn’t looking forward to it, and the winter ahead.


	2. The Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier set off to head up the mountain. Unfortunately, the Witcher forgets about the limitations of the human body. Luckily for him, Jaskier is of a hardier sort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this chapter.  
> Relevant tags: Altitude Sickness

The next morning, Jaskier woke bright and early, ignoring the grumpy Witcher in the bed, even as said Witcher buried his head under a pillow. “We’ve got to get on the road early. The sooner we leave, the more daylight we’ll have to travel in. Isn’t that what you always say?” Jaskier said, shoving Geralt awake and stealing the pillow as he dressed. There hadn’t been time to clean up from their activities last night, and Jaskier didn’t much care. Geralt liked it when he smelled like the Witcher.

Geralt had a few ideas about where Jaskier could stick his daylight as he rolled out of bed reluctantly. He dressed quietly as Jaskier chattered about what they needed to do before they left. Geralt spent his coin on breakfast, knowing it would be the last warm meal they got before they reached the keep. 

“The keep will be about a two-day hike up because of the wagon. Roach will pull it and you can walk behind or upfront with me, the less weight on the cart, the faster we’ll go. We’ll have to go slower when we get to The Killer,” Geralt said, accepting the plate from the barmaid.

Jaskier balked at the name and asked, “The _Killer_?” 

Geralt nodded and pushed another bite of eggs into his mouth, seemingly unphased at Jaskier’s worry. “Yeah. The path becomes narrow and rocky there. After that though, it’s not far to the keep.” 

“If you say so. I’m trusting that I won’t die on this journey,” Jaskier said, only half convinced. 

“Hopefully.” 

And doesn’t that just make him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside?

Once they were about a mile out of town, Jaskier noticed Geralt start to visibly relax. It was cold but Jaskier knew it would only get colder. “So these other wolves…” Jaskier started, eyes on Geralt’s back as they walked the path through the forest.

“What about them?” Geralt replied.

“What are they like? If I’m going to be spending an entire winter with them I might as well know what I’m walking into.”

Geralt grunted but said, “Lambert is the youngest, he’s a bit hot-headed. Easy to rile up and anger, and can be an absolute asshole when it suits him, he tends to go back and forth between pleased and furious as winter goes on.” Jaskier tucked the information away, building a mental profile of the keep’s inhabitants. “Eskel is closest in age to me. He’s easy to get along with as long as you don’t mention his scars.” The picture Jaskier builds of Eskel is mostly based on what he knows of Geralt, only taller and with more scars, maybe different hair. “Vesemir is the oldest. He doesn’t really travel the Path anymore, unless we need him. He keeps watch over the keep in the months we’re away. He holds the most authority in the keep and all major decisions go through him first.” A wizened old man popped into Jaskier’s head, littered with old scars from years of walking the Path. His hair was probably grey like Geralt’s, albeit from old age rather than mutagens. 

“Interesting. Anything I should know to avoid pissing anyone off?” Jaskier asked, eyes glancing into the forest that was covered in frost. Only the crows called from its depths, the other small animals already starting their hibernation. 

Jaskier was uncertain of whether Geralt was going to answer him, he knew the Witcher had heard him at least. “Don’t bother trying to put on false pretenses while we’re there. You already know we can smell lies and such. It’s easier to just get all the personality stuff out the way first and then you don’t have to worry about trying to keep up an act,” the Witcher explained. 

“Don’t mention Eskel’s facial scars, he’s very skittish about them. Lambert… Lambert is an ass, and check with us before drinking anything he’s made. He’s touchy, but it's not always the same thing, he’ll calm down pretty quick though, but probably won’t apologize. Vesemir… He’s... like our… hmm… father I guess you could say, but that’s not quite right. More like...”  
  


“Alpha? The one everyone listens to?” Jaskier suggested.

Geralt chuckled "Actually, yes. That's what we call him... in certain situations.”

Jaskier had been amending his mental notes as needed and carefully filed that tidbit away before asking, “And what do you do with the potions in the keep?” 

Geralt’s jaw tensed and Jaskier didn’t miss the way his grip tightened on Roach’s reins. “You’re allowed to have sex outside of me, you know,” Jaskier said, watching Geralt’s face carefully. They hadn’t talked about it last year beyond Jaskier promising not to see others while they were apart, and Geralt hastily promising the same. Jaskier wasn’t against Geralt having multiple partners, so long as he knew about them, particularly if those partners were other Witchers. 

“Yeah,” Geralt said slowly. “But you didn’t know about them. So I told them I couldn’t last year. We promised each other.”

Jaskier paused and gave Geralt a blank stare. “Geralt, you absolutely gorgeous, fucking idiot, do not tell me you spent all winter in a keep full of sexy men _alone_.”

“I… I mean, Coen was there to help pick up the slack, and I did promise you. I just stayed in my rooms most of the winter,” Geralt grimaced. “I got a lot of studying done.”

Jaskier frowned. “Well, that explains the entirety of the week after you arrived in Oxenfurt. You were damn near insatiable, like a bear with a sore head until I got you screaming under me,” The bard smirked. “But I guess it was more a wolf with blue balls.”

Geralt muttered something under his breath that Jaskier couldn’t catch. “Speak up, my love, it’s not polite to mumble.” 

“I’ll show you polite,” Geralt said, loud enough that Jaskier could hear. The bard smirked and they walked in silence for a bit, nothing more than Jaskier’s humming and the occasional bird call interrupting their walk up the mountain. 

Mid-morning, they turned up what looked like an overgrown goat trail. He took Geralt’s advice, letting the wagon pass and following it up. He did not want to fall and be run over by the heavily laden vehicle. They climbed, taking switchbacks that doubled back on themselves harshly enough that Geralt had to physically move the cart so it continued to roll straight. 

As late afternoon approached, the temperature dropped. Geralt called a halt by a small stream that had clearly been used as a rest stop many times, it already had a fire ring and logs for benches set up.

Geralt made a quick stew of dried meat and they ate, Jaskier far hungrier than he’d imagined. He was strong from keeping up with Roach and Geralt on the trail, but the climb had left him exhausted and with a mild headache. He cuddled close to Geralt in their bedroll and eventually fell asleep. 

* * *

When they woke in the morning, Jaskier was only a little surprised to see his breath misting in front of his face. He was also freezing, as Geralt’s side of the bedroll was cold, even if the Witcher had piled the blankets on him. He looked around and saw his lover carrying the small pot back from the creek, and watched as Geralt hung it over the fire. 

“It’s fucking freezing up here,” Jaskier whined. It was halfway into autumn and he wasn’t used to this level of cold. Oxenfurt was cold, but not like this. 

  
Geralt chuckled and tossed a few of his new warm clothes at him. “Layers, bard, layers.”

“I can only put on but so many layers before you’ll have to roll me up this mountain yourself,” Jaskier muttered, unwrapping himself from the blankets so that he could get dressed. It was the quickest he’d ever put on clothes in his life. The cool air on his warm skin made him hurry even as he shivered enough to mimic one of those tiny, nervous, ornamental dogs noblewomen kept.

He pulled out his new clothing, tugging on the fleece-lined dark blue trousers and thickly-woven, muted purple shirt. He wrestled a bit with the brown overcoat and belt but finally, he got the thick clothes on and a heavy fur-lined cloak over his shoulders. He was warm again and accepted the hot drink Geralt handed him. “Best not to eat heavy until we’re at the keep. It will just slow us down.” Jaskier nodded and sipped at the drink. It was spicy and warm and quite good.

“How much longer until we reach the keep?” Jaskier asked between sips, warming his hands on the cup. 

“Should get there just before the sun goes down if we keep the pace we had yesterday,” Geralt said. Jaskier nodded and finished off his drink. Geralt passed him some jerky and then pushed himself to his feet. “Eat and walk. We need to get moving.” 

Jaskier didn’t feel much like moving but he forced himself to his feet and only staggered slightly before righting himself. “Yay. Moving,” he muttered under his breath, putting out the fire while Geralt checked Roach one last time. His headache was better, but not gone.

The longer they climbed the worse Jaskier felt. He was dizzy and he’d lost feeling in his toes and fingers about two miles back. He’d just resigned himself to never feeling them again when suddenly he wondered if they’d have to spend another night out in the woods. 

His hands shook a bit, stinging like they had been asleep and were waking up again, and he looked at Geralt ahead of him. “When are we supposed to be getting to… the place?” Jaskier asked. His legs felt heavier than they should as he trailed behind the cart. He knew he wasn’t that out of shape.

“Kaer Morhen. And I said we’d get there before sundown,” Geralt said gruffly. 

Jaskier rubbed at his cold nose, it was sore and tingly. He focused on the back of the cart when he felt his upper lip itch as his nose ran. He scrubbed at it with a sleeve and kept walking.

Geralt was guiding Roach over a particularly tricky patch of broken trail when suddenly the scent of blood, human blood, was in the air. He turned and looked at Jaskier. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. The bard’s nose and lower face were covered in blood, still running from his nose. “Jaskier!” He halted Roach and clambered over the cart to get to the bard, who nearly ran into the back of the wooden vehicle before realizing it had stopped.

“Huh? Are we there yet?” 

Geralt looked at his lover, the pale face, the bleeding nose, the confusion, and internally he cursed himself. Witchers didn’t have to worry about mountain sickness, but humans did. “Jaskier, I’m gonna put pressure on your nose, I need to stop the bleeding.”

Jaskier blinked dully. “Okay.” Vaguely, he realized that the words bleeding and him were not a good combination, but his face was so numb from the freezing wind and his limbs hurt and his head was pounding. “What…?” 

Geralt shushed Jaskier before he could say more. “Lean forward,” he instructed. Jaskier did as he was told and Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry… for slowing you down,” Jaskier said as he stood there feeling foolish. 

“You’re fine. Should have realized this would be hard on you,” Geralt released Jaskier’s nose after a minute or two and let out a sigh of relief when no more blood flowed from it. “Here, get on the cart and we’ll pull you the rest of the way up.” 

Jaskier allowed Geralt to lift him into the cart, and he frowned. He should be insisting that he doesn’t want to slow Roach down, that he can make it himself, but when he tried to stand, he found his legs didn't want to listen to him and he plopped back down.

“Stay still,” Geralt said. Jaskier grumbled but did as told as Geralt tucked his cloak around him. 

“My head,” he said. His brain felt like an oversized gourd with a stampede of Roach’s dancing on top. He wasn’t quite sure how to word that to Geralt so he just groaned, “Hurts.”

Geralt frowned and took up Roach’s reins again. “I know, but the herbs to treat that are further up. Hang on just a little longer. Drink some water if you can, it should help,” Geralt guided Roach across the tricky bit of trail and pushed on, the mare looking occasionally over her shoulder at the bard. Even she was worried.

When they passed Dead Man’s Leap, the two massive stones that trainee’s leapt across to test their bravery, strength, and, occasionally, stupidity, he saw what he was looking for. He stopped Roach again and moved to the stones.

The bow moss grew on the shaded, damp lees of rocks at this altitude and he hastened to gather a handful. He pulled out their little cooking pot, and filled it with water from his waterskin, they were close enough to the keep that the lack of water wouldn’t matter much.

The pot was thick enough to allow him to use Igni on it without destroying it, useful when on the trail and he had to heat water in a hurry. He dropped the moss in, along with a healthy glug of wine and formed the sign for Igni, placing his hand on the bottom of the pot.

  
It rose to a rolling boil quickly and he set it aside to cool and steep. Once the brew had cooled sufficiently, he tasted it and nodded. It was a simple cure he’d learned from the folk who lived at the base of the mountains, after he’d hauled a lost little boy down from a cave system. The boy had been chased up the mountain by a harpy, Geralt had killed it, then located the boy. 

The local herbalist had treated the lad, who’d been practically incoherent and bleeding from the nose, much like Jaskier. He’d recovered fully within a few hours, even without descending the mountain.

He poured the liquid into his waterskin, the leather would help keep it warm, and climbed up on the cart beside Jaskier. “Drink this, as much as you can. It will help.” He poured a bit of water from Jaskier’s waterskin onto a rag and used it to wipe the blood off the bard’s face as he handed the herbal mixture over.

Jaskier sniffed the waterskin and had to fight back a gag. He trusted Geralt, however, and bit back his complaints, trying to toss the whole thing back quickly. The face he pulled was probably less than appealing but he managed to get about halfway through on his first go. The drink was earthy and unfortunately tasted like dirt and watered-down wine. 

He got through the rest of it as the cart started moving again. The slight swaying of the cart didn’t help with Jaskier’s head and he rolled over to lay down next to some of the supplies, pillowing his head on Roach’s saddle. Jaskier hadn’t intended to fall asleep but he was jolted awake when the cart hit a large rock. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Geralt said. 

“‘S fine,” Jaskier replied, rubbing his head. He felt a bit better and his headache was improving. 

Geralt looked back at him and he must have passed whatever visual inspection he performed because he kept leading Roach on. “We’re almost there. Should just be another two miles or so,” he explained. 

Jaskier nodded, he still felt tired, and trying to move his legs and arms felt like moving through water but that he could deal with. “So what else do you do during winter?” he asked, leaning back to stare up at the sky. It was a light grey color with all of the clouds covering it, and Jaskier didn’t doubt that there would be light snow within the next week. 

“Outside repairs mostly. At least before the storms come. Once we’re snowed in we’ll shore up the inside and have basic chores, taking care of the animals, cleaning… and almost daily sparring,” Geralt said. Jaskier wondered how he fit into that. He could probably do a fair bit of the chores the Witchers did but he wouldn’t be much use with repairing the keep or shoring up walls. 

He drifted for a bit, mind thinking of things neither here nor there before the cart came to a stop. “We’re here,” Geralt said and Jaskier sat up quickly. His head no longer pounded, and his fingers and toes all felt fine. Nasty as whatever that drink was, it had worked.

Here was a run-down castle that Jaskier could tell would have been beautiful in it’s prime. Now, however, ivy-covered the intact bits of wall and he could see where a few of the walls were crumbling or broken. “Come on, we’ve got to put the supplies around back and then we can go in,” Geralt said, leading Roach to a wide door in the side. 

The wide door slid open on oiled hinges and Roach eagerly entered. Jaskier felt the thick walls cut them off from the chilly wind still whipping outside and breathed a sigh of relief. The stable was backed up to one intact wall, and he saw several stalls, only one of them occupied. Said occupant stuck a massive black head over the stall door and knickered at them in greeting. 

“Hello to you too, Scorpion,” Geralt said, guiding Roach and the cart to a stop and starting to unharness her. “That’s Scorpion, Eskel’s horse.” 

Jaskier nodded, looking around. The stable seemed to be in far better condition than anything else in the area, and he could see fresh caulking over one of the large wooden buckets. Getting off the cart, Jaskier headed to the large horse and was greeted by him snuffling at Jaskier’s shirt. “I do not have treats but I’ll bring you and Roach some later,” he told him, rubbing the large velvety nose. 

“Do not spoil my horse,” Geralt grumbled. 

“Your horse just pulled me and all of our supplies up a mountain. I think she deserves a little spoiling,” Jaskier retorted. 

Geralt grumbled, but when Jaskier was focused on the other horse, he slipped a small carrot from his pocket and she crunched it down. It wasn’t spoiling her… it was a reward for hard work. He called Jaskier back, Scorpion giving him a sorrowful look. “Most of this will be fine if it stays out in the barn overnight. Just grab your clothes and this crate,” Geralt instructed, pointing at said crate. Jaskier nodded and pulled their stuff off the cart while Geralt finished unharnessing Roach and brushed her down.

It was a quick brushing, he’d come out in the morning and give her the pampering she deserved. For now, though, all she wanted was her warm stall, feed, and water. She snorted at him and he let her go. She pranced to her stall, next to Scorpion’s, pausing to greet the other horse before entering her stall. She immediately dove her nose into the bucket, the feed already prepared. Geralt knew they’d been seen on the way up, parts of the Trail were easily in line of sight of the keep.

He shut the stall door, ignoring the indignant snort it earned him, and grabbed his own saddlebags. “Let's go in, it’s much warmer inside,” Geralt told Jaskier, picking up two more crates. Unlike Jaskier, he lifted both the crates easily, and together they headed into the courtyard and towards the huge wooden doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be updated every Wednesday. If you like this series, be sure to kudos, comments are always very appreciated, and subscribe to get updates.


	3. Prime Naptime Locations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is introduced to the rest of Wolves at Kaer Morhen and is quite unceremoniously thrust into exactly what they get up to all winter. He is very much okay with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this chapter.  
> Relevant tags: Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism.  
> Warning this chapter has NSFW images commissioned by [Zuri](https://twitter.com/sfm_obsession?lang=en). You have been warned. 
> 
> If a pic doesn't show up, open it in a new tab.

The tall wooden doors that led into the keep itself were battered, but not broken, though Jaskier could see where new slats had been put in. Geralt opened a smaller door set into the larger ones and pushed through, Jaskier behind him. Geralt kicked the door shut as Jaskier looked around the little foyer, a few rugs, a bench, and a pile of mud-encrusted boots. 

The Witcher dropped his crates on the bench and gestured for Jaskier to do the same. Jaskier did and Geralt wrapped a warm arm around him, tugging him close and kissing his cheek. “Welcome to Kaer Morhen.” With his free hand, Geralt opened the next door and warmth billowed out, and he was led into it.

The hall was dim, lit by a fire in the hearth and a few candles nearby, a large table occupied part of the room, with two long benches on either side, a shorter one at the end. In front of the fire sat several chairs, couches, and one oddly shaped chaise. It looked more like a couch with one end and part of the back cut off than the fancy ones he’d seen before.

The chaise was occupied by a large, dark-haired Witcher, who glanced up at them over the back of the chaise and grinned. His smile was friendly and welcoming, even as Jaskier noticed the scars on his cheek. They didn’t detract from the man’s beauty, in fact, they seemed to enhance it, at least to Jaskier’s own humble opinion. From the looks, Jaskier guessed this must be Eskel.

The man waved them closer and Geralt chuckled as he sniffed the air. Jaskier was in for a surprise. It would do him good, setting the lay of the land this early. 

The two walked closer and rounded the couches, then Jaskier let out a startled squeak when he saw that Eskel was not alone on the chaise. The Witcher was reclined back, bare as he could be, book in one hand and completely ignoring the naked man who was lying between his legs, nose buried in the dark thick curls of his groin. An hourglass was set on the arm of the chaise. 

Geralt smirked at the squeak his bard let out. Geralt could always trust Eskel to have Lambert already busy. It was good though, seeing as it meant Lambert wouldn’t subject Jaskier to his sharp tongue. It was clearly better occupied with Eskel’s cock. He looked at his youngest brother and absently noted the lack of breathing. 

Jaskier couldn’t help but stare at the pair, the firelight flickering on their skin and making it look just a bit like a painting. The firelight glinted across the other Witcher’s back, and Jaskier guessed this must be Lambert, since he was not an old man. The light flicked again and his eyes widened when he realized the droplets on Lambert’s back weren't sweat, but something much thicker.

Lambert had his eyes closed, nose buried in Eskel’s groin, one leg pulled up and an arm tucked under him, and Jaskier realized he couldn’t see the rise and fall of the Witcher’s chest. He knew Geralt could hold his breath for a long time, a handy trick when dealing with drowners, but this worried him. “Uhh, doesn’t he need to… uhh, breathe?” 

Eskel chuckled and ran a hand through the short hair of the other Witcher. “Nah, he took a dose of Whale earlier,” Eskel looked at the hourglass beside him. “He’s got twenty more minutes before I have to wake him up to take a breath.” 

“Wait… he’s asleep?” Jaskier paled at the thought that anyone could sleep comfortably with a cock in their throat. 

“Yeah, he worked hard today and needed a nap. He sleeps best like this,” Eskel explained, brushing at Lambert’s hair again.

“Where’s Vesemir?” Geralt asked, setting his bags down by one of the couches and taking Jaskier’s from his unresisting hands. 

“Getting dinner. He saw you on the Trail earlier today, so he made enough. I fixed up and put feed in Roach’s stall as well,” Eskel said. Jaskier was hardly listening, more focused on Lambert than the conversation. 

“Thanks.” At the sound of Geralt’s voice, Lambert stirred, gold eyes blinking open just a hair. One hand slowly reached out and made a grasping motion, and Geralt smiled. “In a minute, Lambert.” There was a muted, disappointed sound and the hand withdrew, tucking back under Eskel’s broad thigh. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure if this was the best time for introductions with the youngest wolf as he shifted awkwardly, his cock was half-hard under his heavy leggings. Unfortunately, his movement drew Lambert’s eyes to him like a beacon. Lambert tensed up, back and thighs going stiff as he tried to pull off from Eskel. 

“Still, Lamb,” Eskel said, tightening his grip on the wolf’s hair, not letting Lambert up from his cock. Lambert whined but didn’t continue to struggle as he scented the air and smelled the remnants of Geralt’s cum on Jaskier. Eskel loosened his grip and Lambert’s eyes slid closed again all while Jaskier watched with wide eyes. 

“Good boy, Lambert,” Geralt said, stepping close and dropping a kiss onto Lambert’s head. The younger wolf settled more, burying his nose deeply into Eskel’s groin and relaxing even more. 

“So, you must be Jaskier,” Eskel said, rubbing a thumb across Lambert’s cheek. He set the book aside. “I’m Eskel, and this is Lambert. I’m guessing Geralt only partly explained what happens up here?” Eskel’s voice went dry at the last part, a wry smile on his lips. He knew his brother and did not doubt that Geralt had given just the bare bones, and nothing more.

“Uhh, yeah… yes, I’m Jaskier. It’s nice to meet you,” Jaskier managed. He was only partly confident he’d made that sentence into a statement and not a question. “Geralt didn’t exactly tell me much…”

Geralt looked away, a look of embarrassment on his face.    
  
“Typical. Have a seat, Vesemir should be up with dinner soon, and we’ll explain because Geralt is chronically taciturn,” Eskel said. He glared at Geralt and pointed at the couch next to him. “Might as well take a seat.” 

Jaskier sat on the couch next to Eskel and raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who sat next to him. Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier and pulled him close. 

“So, when did you make it in?” Geralt asked.

“Three days, Lambert’s been here about a week. Been looking forward to you getting here, wolf, we were starting to get worried, even with your letters.”

“Letters?” Jaskier asked and felt Geralt shift uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, Geralt’s been sending letters to Vesemir every time you two stopped in a place big enough to send them. Vesemir goes down the mountain twice a month to get them. We all send letters, but,” Eskel laughed. “Geralt’s been sending them constantly. He talks a lot about you.”

Jaskier saw Geralt look away, embarrassed. He sat up a bit and kissed Geralt’s pale cheek. “That’s sweet of you, dearheart.” It truly was, Geralt so pleased by him that he sent letters to his family made him feel all warm inside. He snuggled close into Geralt and looked over Eskel and Lambert, noting the similarities between the three wolves.    
  
Eskel was broad, broader than Geralt, with a heavily muscled chest and long thick legs. His arms were just as big though his hands were gentle as they ran through Lambert’s short hair. He couldn’t see much of Lambert from this angle, just his back and ass, which was more than enough. Lean muscle and a firm ass he wanted to sink his teeth into. 

Lambert shifted, one leg drawing up, flexing his ass and back and the light glittered along the beads of fluid on his back. Jaskier was absolutely sure now. That was not sweat. Eskel smirked and leaned forward a bit, running a finger down Lambert’s back and through the cum that decorated the skin, before leaning back and sliding his finger down and into Lambert’s mouth. Jaskier suppressed a moan.

Geralt buried his nose into Jaskier’s hair, smelling the low notes of arousal and his own scent on top of the bard’s typical rosin, chamomile, and cedar. “Like how Lambert looks?” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s ear, feeling the other man stiffen just slightly, in more than one way as he smelled the arousal spike. “Eskel’s all the way down his throat, just like he likes. Sometimes he’ll spend all day like that,” He looked at Eskel, “How long has he been on you?”

Eskel stretched, muscles flexing and drawing a small groan from the Witcher lodged on his cock. “About two hours. He pulled the tail at lunch and wanted this. He’s been having a rough time sleeping the last few days.” 

  
Eskel reached down and nudged at Lambert’s jaw, “Come on, Lamb, take a breath.” There was a groan and Lambert’s head moved back, and back, until he pulled free of Eskel’s cock, and Jaskier’s jaw dropped. It had to be nearly the same length as Geralt’s, maybe even a little thicker. Lambert panted for a few moments, straining against the hold Eskel still had on his jaw. “Breathe.”

The harsh panting slowed and Eskel let go as Lambert drew in a deep breath, then drove Eskel’s hard cock back into his mouth, swallowing around the thick length until his nose was buried back in dark curly hair. Jaskier could see how Lambert’s throat bulged around the thick cock and had to swallow hard himself.   
  
“Easy, Lambert, I’m not going anywhere,” Eskel said, settling back and folding his arms behind his head, clearly showing off his chest for Jaskier's benefit. “Vesemir’s coming up.”

Jaskier looked down at Lambert and met the youngest wolf's eye. Lambert's gaze raked over him, searching his face, his body, and seemed to see right into him and then, apparently deeming him worthy, closed again. 

“I see you made it up the mountain,” a deep voice said and Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the newcomer. This wolf wasn’t as large and muscular as the other three, but still clearly a man in his prime. Jaskier blinked. The man was also utterly bare and seemed as unconcerned with it as Eskel and Lambert. As he drew closer, Jaskier could see that his steel-gray hair was pulled back into a low tail, and he bore a neatly cropped beard, and a dusting of gray hair across his chest and abdomen that led to a...Jaskier swallowed hard...a rather delicious looking cock, standing at half-mast.

The man handed them two plates, piled high with meat, carrots, potatoes, and what looked like tiny cabbages. “Yes, Vesemir, the fruit crates are by the door.” Jaskier kept his jaw from dropping by sheer will. He’d expected a wizened old man, tiny and frail, not a handsome silver fox. He looked at Geralt and his Witcher had a smug little smirk on his lips. He’d  _ known _ ! 

The scent of the food made his mouth water, smelling absolutely delicious after the hard slog up the mountain with just jerky and dry rations, not to mention whatever that nasty concoction had been. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, trying not to stare at the muscled chest of the oldest wolf.

“Don’t mention it,” Vesemir said, giving him a kind smile before turning to go back into the kitchen. Jaskier couldn’t resist looking at the firm ass as Vesemir walked away and when he turned back, both Geralt and Eskel were grinning at him. 

“Shut up,” Jaskier grumbled, and dug into his food to cover his blushing face. 

  
Vesemir returned quickly with two more plates, handing one to Eskel and keeping the other for himself. He settled on the chaise behind Lambert, forcing the youngest Witcher to shift slightly and make room for him with a grumble around Eskel’s cock. Vesemir set his plate on Lambert’s ass and smiled at Jaskier, “Welcome to Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier laughed, “And quite a welcome it’s been! Geralt has told me almost nothing about you all.” He eyed Eskel, who was using Lambert’s back to rest his plate. “Isn’t he going to eat?”

“He will when he earns it. I took Swallow and Oriole, so he’ll get what he needs.” Eskel said and Jaskier racked his brain trying to remember what those two potions did.    
  
“Lambert, you do have to eat solid food at least once this winter,” Geralt said teasingly and the figure on the couch responded with a rude gesture before ignoring him again. 

“So, you’re Jaskier. I suppose it’s time we had a talk.” Vesemir said, looking him over and Jaskier felt his stomach sink at the implication behind those words. He’d always hated them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will be updated on Wednesdays. Make sure to kudos if you like this fic, subscribe to be updated next Wednesday, and comments give us fuel to keep writing, feel free to share your favorite part or let us know what you think.


	4. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier learns the rules to play this winter and gets a nice show after dinner. Lambert finally gets to eat his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to [locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this chapter!  
> Relevant Tags: Blowjobs, Anal Sex, Cum Eating, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Kink Discussion/Negotiations
> 
> If you can't see the images, open them in a new tab.

Jaskier swallowed hard, forcing a bite of meat down, and nodded, “A talk… yes… what about?” He was nervous but tried not to let it show, but he knew they could smell it from the flare of the Witcher’s nostrils.

“Nothing bad, lad, I promise. Mostly need to give you the lay of the land and explain how we do things up here.” When Jaskier nodded, Vesemir continued, “What has Geralt told you?”   


“Not much, I caught him taking a drink of Wolf night before last and pried some of it out of him, but well…” Jaskier waved his hand in a vague motion. “You know what he’s like.”

“Indeed we do.” Vesemir sniffed the air then Jaskier felt the weight of the old wolf’s gaze on him. “He get a nosebleed on the way up?” 

Geralt nodded, “Yes, treated it with bow moss tisane and a splash of wine. Doesn’t even have a headache now.”

  
  
“And how do you know that?” Jaskier asked, raising an eyebrow. “Also, that stuff was like drinking dirt.”

Geralt ran a finger between Jaskier’s eyebrows. “You get a furrow here. It’s gone, so no headache and I know exactly how terrible it tastes. Worked though, didn’t it?” Geralt smirked as Jaskier huffed. 

“Not unusual, lad, most humans get one this high up. But, on to more important matters.” Vesemir paused, making sure he had Jaskier’s attention. “In this castle, everyone fucks,” He said bluntly, “All the pups fuck, and I fuck all of them. Boundaries are to be respected and accepted without question, and we expect you to tell us if we do something you don’t like.”   
  
Geralt took the plate from Jaskier’s numb fingers as Vesemir continued in his usual blunt manner. “We have several safewords and signals in place. If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t feel right, or something happens, use them. Talk to us.

“We use wyvern for slow down and check-in, forktail is a hard stop. We also have the colors we used during training for the boys. Red is stop, yellow is check-in or slow down and green is for all is well. You won’t ever be in trouble or looked down on for using them.” 

Vesemir picked up his plate and handed it to Eskel, who set it down on the table next to him. “Anytime you have to use a word other than green, it should be reported to me so we can talk about what happened. The safety of everyone in this castle is my responsibility, and it’s one I take seriously. The pups know all of this, but you need to as well.”

Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand, which had somehow made its way into his own. “Is anyone else expected?” His voice was a little reedy. He’d figured out that winters at Kaer Morhen involved fucking back on the trail, but this was far more involved than he’d thought. 

  
  
“Not this year, Coen is holed up in Toussaint this winter, something about a new catacomb being found and excavated. He’ll be busy until summer.”

“Okay, I’m guessing there’s more?” Jaskier asked and flushed at Vesemir’s chuckle.

“Quite a bit. We do a type of lottery to see who gets to be the tail. Whoever pulls this…” He pulled on Lambert’s medallion chain, rotating it around the young Witcher’s throat, and held up a small carved wolf tail that was hung on it. “Gets to bottom for the day, which we call being the tail or toy whichever you prefer. During autumn, we only play in the evenings, from late afternoon until bed. Too many chores and repairs to deal with. Once the snow falls, it’s all day and night. They get fucked, whenever and wherever, outside of chores and training. When it’s pulled, only the tail’s mouth is available until they go down to the hot springs and get cleaned up and cleaned out, even Witcher’s don’t like some things. They can wear a plug outside of training if they want.”

“Plug?” Jaskier squeaked as Vesemir readjusted Lambert’s medallion chain. 

“Yes,” Vesemir dug into the couch by Lambert’s side and produced a metal object, shaped like a wide cone but with a flared base, with a fluffy wolf tail attached. “They go about their day, and anytime someone wants to fuck, all they have to do is find the tail and have fun. Usually, we discuss what someone wants at breakfast or lunch and go from there.”

“Do you ever get the tail?” Jaskier asked and flushed at his own words.

“Sometimes, but it’s different when I do. Everyone obeys me then. I take care of all of my boys. Sometimes there is no tail, and it’s a free day to be around each other, however, you wish. If you pull it, but aren’t up to it that day, you can put it in the center of the table, and anyone can pick it up, if no one does, it’s a free day.”

“That's...that’s a lot,” Jaskier said, though he couldn’t deny he was half hard in his warm trousers. 

“Everything is consensual, and anyone can opt-out at any time, like Geralt did last year. You just have to have a shirt on, or say no. Simple as that.” Eskel said, brushing over Lambert’s hair, which made the younger Witcher blink slowly.

“What if you can’t speak?” Jaskier asked, looking at Lambert.

“You want to show him, Lamb? Just a review.” Eskel asked, tapping at Lambert’s nose. 

Lambert blinked lazily and lifted a hand, tapping three times on Eskel’s leg, then snapping three times. He also formed the sign for Igni, but nothing happened before he lowered his hand again, tucking it under Eskel’s leg. 

“Good job.” Eskel scratched at Lambert’s hair. “We can also use Igni but it’s not as common. Lambert can’t do it silently yet.”

“Yeah, Geralt told me he refrained last winter, which I find absolutely adorable,” He kissed Geralt’s cheek. “But there is no way I’m going to say no to four sexy men all winter.” He smiled at the three grins that got him from the unoccupied Witchers. “So what's the deal with the little potions? I caught Geralt taking one he called Wolf, but it didn’t make him all… black and veiny like they usually do.”

Eskel chuckled and rubbed at Lambert’s jaw. “They’re microdoses of our regular potions. With such a small amount, we get different effects than the usual dose, but we have to be careful. Too many and we’ll still hit toxicity and well, that’s no fun for anyone. As for what each does, I took Oriole and Swallow for Lambert. Oriole makes cum taste good, and even makes it sort of nutritional, as Lambert likes to test.” He groaned as Lambert deliberately swallowed around him. “I also took Swallow, which is aptly named since it increases how much we cum. Swallow also has an internal use, it makes us produce our own slick, like a woman, which is useful sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s what Geralt meant… when he said solid food.” Jaskier looked at Lambert, who had closed his eyes again, then glanced at Geralt. “Okay… So, I can have sex with any of you? And you with me?”

Geralt brushed his nose gently along Jaskier’s temple as Vesemir answered, “So long as everyone consents. We don’t allow harassment, bullying, or abuse, not that I think you’d do that, not as attached to Geralt as you are, but everyone obeys the rules. Go on upstairs and put your gear away, I already laid a fire in your room, Geralt. Then come back down.”

Jaskier was tugged to his feet by Geralt, who gave him a wide grin, complete with showing off his sharp canines, which sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. Jaskier bent and grabbed his bags, lurching upright when he felt Geralt slide a palm over his ass. He glared at his lover, who’d already shouldered his own bags, and the Witcher only grinned wider. “Let’s go, bard, sooner up, sooner down again.”

Jaskier let Geralt lead the way, both for practicality purposes, and to watch that tight ass, in tighter leather, going up the stairs. It took most of his very limited self-control to not smack Geralt’s ass as they climbed. 

The room Geralt led him to was basic, a fireplace, a bed, a table, a pair of chairs, and an overflowing bookshelf, but it was covered in trinkets and had fur rugs covering the floor. A pair of elk antlers served as hooks for their cloaks and Geralt dropped his bags on the bed, motioning Jaskier to do the same. 

“Are you alright with this?” Geralt asked, shoulders tense and not looking at Jaskier. A sure sign he was nervous. 

“Darling,” Jaskier said, stepping forward and cupping Geralt’s cheek in his palm. “I love you, and nothing will change that. I know you love them, and I am more than willing to share you, and that love. If you don’t mind me getting fucked by them as well.” Jaskier could see Geralt most certainly  _ didn’t _ mind, as his eyes dilated, nearly swallowing the golden iris whole. He chuckled, “I thought not.” 

Jaskier leaned in and kissed his Witcher, reveling in the response Geralt gave as their tongues wrestled for dominance. He pulled back regretfully. “We should be going back down, I suppose.”

  
  
Geralt gave him a filthy leer. “We should. You’re going to love it here, Jask.” With that, he took the bard’s hand and pulled him out of the room.

Jaskier dragged Geralt back down the hallway and toward the stairs. He had never moved so quickly in his life, well, maybe when that harpy chased him last year, but still. He dashed down the stairs, stopped only by Geralt’s hand hooking around his waist when he nearly missed a step and would have fallen. “Easy, Jaskier, we have plenty of time.” 

The bard grumbled but slowed, then stopped dead in his tracks when he hit the bottom of the stairs and saw the scene on the chaise. 

Lambert had been shifted, legs spread wide and folded under himself, ass raised high. The end of the couch had somehow dropped down, and Vesemir was standing now, buried to the hilt in Lambert’s hole, not moving, hands stroking Lambert’s back and ass.

Jaskier had no idea how long he stood there─it could have been seconds or even hours─before Geralt nudged him and broke the trance. Geralt chuckled and pulled him into the hall and over to the smaller couch across from the chaise. Vesemir had clearly taken the opportunity to shift the furniture around while they were upstairs. Jaskier kept his eyes on Lambert, he couldn’t see how large Vesemir was from this angle, but damned if he wasn’t hoping for a peek. He let out a high pitched squeak, something he’d deny to his dying day, as Geralt tugged him into his lap.

The Witcher splayed Jaskier’s legs over his wide thighs and then spread them, just a bit, putting Jaskier on display. Geralt let out a deep chuckle in his ear and nipped at it, making Jaskier moan.

He heard Eskel and Vesemir chuckle as he blinked, trying to focus. He raked his eyes over the two and tilted his head. There was a small charm on the chain that held the Wolf medallion. Softly, so as to not draw attention, he whispered to Geralt, “What’s the second charm do? You don't have one.” It looked a little like the symbol for Igni, when Geralt had written it out a few times. 

Geralt, who seemed to have no qualms about being heard, replied, “It’s a warmth charm. Allows us to go around bare without getting cold.” Jaskier waited a moment, but no further information seemed to be forthcoming.

Eskel cleared his throat and rolled his eyes when Jaskier looked over at him. “It’s a spelled warming charm, it lasts about twelve hours before they have to be recharged. We put them in that box,” Eskel pointed at an ornately carved box set by the hearth. “To recharge using the heat from the fire. We can also use Igni to give them a small boost if we’re busy doing something.”

“I’ll make one for you, we don’t have any spares right now. Not since  _ someone _ melted their's last winter,” Vesemir said as everyone’s eyes, even Lambert’s went to Eskel’s reddening face. Jaskier could barely contain his grin. “It will take several days, both to make and to charge, but I’ll make extras this time.”

As Vesemir spoke, the sand finished trickling out of the top of the hourglass and Eskel tapped Lambert’s cheek. The younger Witcher stayed where he was, giving Eskel a sharp look. Eskel sighed and pulled him up with a firm hand in his hair. Lambert took several deep, gasping breaths, all while pulling against Eskel’s grip, trying to get back on the thick shaft. “Eskel, I’m hungry… please… I want it.”

Eskel pretended to think about it, then nodded. “I think you’ve earned it.” He released Lambert’s hair and the other Witcher immediately began working Eskel’s cock, sucking it deep into his throat and bobbing his head all along the length. 

Jaskier couldn’t help but watch the bulge of Lambert’s neck that appeared and disappeared with every bob of his head. Swallowing thickly, Jaskier leaned back into Geralt, trying desperately not to palm at his own breeches. It didn’t take long before Eskel moaned and came down Lambert’s throat, a large hand in dark hair keeping the younger wolf on his cock. Jaskier could see Lambert’s throat working, swallowing down every drop. 

Eskel gave a hum of appreciation and loosened his grip on Lambert’s hair to pet through the soft strands. “Good boy,” he praised, “you didn’t spill a drop.” Lambert pulled away, sucking hard and pulling off with a loud pop. Lambert gave a grin and licked his lips, suggestively, but then Vesemir began to move. The smug look on Lambert’s face dissolved into an open-mouthed moan as the older wolf began a smooth steady pace. Eskel took advantage of Lambert’s distraction and guided him back to his cock, where Lambert sunk down on it again with a low, muffled groan. Lambert bobbed his head in time with the slow thrusts of the cock in his ass.

“As I explained earlier,” Vesemir said, voice even and steady despite the way his hips were rolling into Lambert. “During the day until the first heavy snowfall, everyone does chores. We’ll discuss it more over breakfast, but I’ll most likely have you help in the kitchen, cleaning inside, and helping with the laundry and animals. The pups will be working on the walls, reinforcing and rebuilding what they can. Once the heavy snowfalls, we can’t repair anything outside, so other than indoor chores and training in the salle, our days are fairly empty.” He chuckles and gives Lambert a harsh thrust. “We generally fill the rest of the time with sex, or reading, sometimes Gwent, but most often it’s sex.”

Jaskier nodded, he was hard as a rock and was sure he was leaking enough to show through the thick trousers. “Whe- when does the first heavy snow set in?” He tried to shift and wiggle his legs shut, but Geralt placed a hand on each knee, locking him in place. Jaskier felt his face flush red but didn’t struggle. The position made sure his hard cock was pressed up against his trousers for the other Witchers to see.

Vesemir hummed as he thought about it, shifting his stance to get more comfortable. “In about a month, maybe less. We try to get most of the─” Vesemir was cut off by a loud moan from Lambert as the young Witcher bucked back into Vesemir. Jaskier hadn’t even noticed him lift his head off Eskel and his eyes were drawn to the sound. Lambert’s face was a study in pleasure, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and plush, mouth half-open as he moaned and panted.

Without missing a beat of his steady slow fucking, Vesemir had a fistful of Lambert’s hair in a tight grip. “The adults are talking.” He shoved Lambert’s head back towards Eskel’s cock.

Lambert let out a stifled whine, “Sorry, Alpha,” He bent his head back to Eskel and swallowed it back down. Jaskier could see even better from this angle. He could see how wide Lambert’s lips stretched, how his throat bulged as he swallowed.

Jaskier swallowed thickly as his cock twitched in his trousers, and Eskel gave him a smirk. “Those pants look uncomfortable, you should take them off if you’d like.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt, who met his gaze with a heated one. “Can I?” He asked breathlessly. In response, Geralt released his knees and Jaskier jumped to his feet, scrambling out of his unfamiliar clothes. He’d finally wrestled his boots off and had started on his pants when Geralt moved to help him, already nude and cock standing at attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I know that it's now Thursday in some places. But I hope this chapter makes up for being late. If you like this work, feel free to tell us what you liked in the comments, and make sure to subscribe to get the latest chapter updates!


	5. Potions, Charms, and Fucking! Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets a better grasp on what exactly each of the potions does. And he gets to participate in some nighttime fun with the Wolves for the first of many times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this chapter.   
> Relevant Tags: Oral sex, Anal sex, Cum eating, Blowjobs

It took everything Jaskier had to keep from simply going to his knees and taking Geralt in his mouth. The Witcher’s cock was hard and dripping, ruddy with excitement. Luckily, Geralt saw his aborted movement and twisted away to help Jaskier pull off the stubborn, if warm, trousers. 

His cock sprang up, also dripping and the cold air against it made him moan, then bite back a whimper. It was COLD. He hadn’t really noticed it, in Geralt’s lap, bundled up in his warm clothing, but it was. 

Geralt chuckled and moved to the fireplace, throwing several more logs on and stoking it high. He bent and opened the ornate box, pulling out the only charm inside. With a tug, he freed his hair from its leather tie and looped the charm onto the long strip, then slipped it around Jaskier’s neck, before tying it off. 

As soon as the charm was secured, Jaskier stopped shivering, it was like he’d stepped from the icy castle into a mild spring day. Warm, but not hot. He touched the charm and even he could feel the magic inside it. “What about you?” He asked Geralt, who was taking a seat on the wider two-person couch.

“I’ll be fine. Witchers deal with the cold better, besides─” He reached out and tugged Jaskier into his lap, “─I have you to keep me warm.”

Jaskier flushed, a warm feeling in his belly at the care Geralt was showing. The Witcher did it all the time, making sure he got the best bits of meat, the warmest blankets they could get, and now, going cold so he wouldn’t have to. He leaned in and kissed Geralt, letting the kiss go from languid to heated as their tongues dueled.

“Here pup,” Vesemir said into the relative quiet, and Jaskier pulled away to see the older wolf pulling a remarkably familiar tin from the side table. He tossed it to Geralt, who caught it neatly. It looked  _ exactly _ like the one they used, and frequently got refilled.

Geralt held the tin, “Lambert needs to get to know you first…” Geralt started, hesitantly. “Would you be o─” Geralt cut off abruptly as Jaskier held a finger to his lips.

“I understand, I’d feel the same way. I’m not gonna turn down a chance to ride you though.” He dipped his head in close and breathed into Geralt’s ear. “And I know you want to show me off.”

Geralt groaned and nipped at his shoulder before popping open the tin with his thumb. “Lean on me.” Jaskier obeyed and let Geralt arrange his legs, straddling Geralt’s thighs with his back to the other witchers.

He moaned as Geralt slipped a slick finger into him, testing the muscle, and with a pleased hum, added another. The resulting stretch made Jaskier groan and rock his hips back against those thick fingers. “Geralt…”

“Didn’t you want to ask Vesemir about the potions? Go on, no one’s going anywhere.” Geralt said, shallowly thrusting his fingers in and tugging at the ring of flesh around them.

“Oh… oh fuck… right.” Jaskier cleared his throat and directed his question over his shoulder. “Eskel said he took Oriole and Swallow, did YOU?” The last word was yelped as Geralt scissored his fingers apart, just on the good side of rough. “I don’t know if you need them…” Jaskier twitched his hips again, trying to thrust down on Geralt’s fingers, but the Witcher just held his hips firm.

“No, only Eskel took them, and Lambert took Killer Whale, which you probably already know the effects of,” Vesemir said, eyeing where Geralt was playing with his bard’s hole. “Don’t tease, Geralt. It’s gonna be a long night otherwise and I’m getting you up at dawn.”

“Yes, Vesemir.” Came the immediate response, and Jaskier moaned as Geralt introduced a third finger, scissoring them as he tried to catch his breath. “And I don’t need potions for you, lark, you get my blood boiling with a glance.”

Jaskier tried to control his breathing, he was a bard, he could do this. “What do the other potions do? Geralt only explained… briefly.” He managed to get out before Geralt hooked a finger from his other hand into his hole and began to gently pull. For a moment, his mind went blank, all he could focus on was the lovely burning stretch of his hole and Geralt’s fingers teasing inside him.

Eskel noticed Lambert squirming, trying to get a look at the young bard, and obligingly shifted so the younger wolf could see Jaskier being prepped. Lambert clearly liked the view, as his movements got more intense. Eskel smirked and petted the soft hair, thrilling inside when Lambert leaned into it. 

“Hmm, Maribor Forest, we take that one for endurance. Orally, it lets us control when we come. If applied internally, it makes a hole not get sore. It’s quite useful.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at Geralt, never speeding up his pace on Lambert. 

Jaskier yelped when Geralt lifted him like he weighed nothing, then turned him, spreading the bard’s legs with his own, until he was spread wide and on display, hard cock bobbing in the air. He caught the appreciative look from Eskel and Vesemir as Geralt lifted him, then began to lower him slowly onto his cock. The head of Geralt’s cock had just breached Jaskier when the Witcher spoke again. “Go on, ask another question.”

Jaskier gasped and writhed, but Geralt held firm. He knew this was mild payback for edging the wolf so long at the inn. “What… are the… oh, fuck...others?” 

“Let’s see… What are they…” Vesemir drawled, already catching on to his pup's ploy. “There’s Tawny Owl, it reduces our refractory time to almost nothing, and makes many of the other potions last longer.” He watched as Jaskier was lowered a quarter of the way down Geralt’s cock, the bard gasping and moaning, scrabbling at Geralt’s hands. “There’s Blizzard, it makes our orgasms seem like they last forever, though they don’t.” Jaskier slid just a little lower.

Vesemir eyed the bard, still never losing his steady rhythm on Lambert, even as the young Wolf began to wiggle and try to entice him. A firm hand on a hip put a stop to that. “Thunderbolt is nice, makes our cocks bigger.” Another slide down for the bard. He was halfway down Geralt’s cock now and Vesemir could hear him begging under his breath for more. “Oriole and Swallow, Eskel already told you. White Raffard's is used to give us an instant erection, no matter what.”

Jaskier keened, Geralt was killing him! Only halfway in, not letting him move, spread wide with no leverage. It was horrendous… and perfect. “What… about the others… Wolf… and… and…” He struggled to remember the other one, “Full Moon!”

“Ah, those. Wolf makes us more sensitive, quicker to come. It can be used internally to make the prostate more sensitive too.” There was a broken cry from Jaskier as Geralt pulled him another quarter of the way down. “The last one, Full Moon...well, it gives us knots, just like wolves.” 

Jaskier wailed as Geralt pulled him down swiftly, burying the rest of his thick cock inside. He gasped for breath as he felt his hole flex uselessly against the stretch inside him. “Oh… oh fuck Geralt… please… oh…” Jaskier flung his head back, eyes closed, and thus missed the look Geralt and Vesemir shared. He felt himself being raised again and then slowly, slowly slid back down.

For a few moments that movement, slick and slow and stretching, was almost too much, then it wasn’t enough and he writhed, helpless to force himself down against Geralt’s grip. Suddenly Geralt adjusted his grip, moving Jaskier faster, thrusting up into him as he pulled down.

The sudden burst of friction had Jaskier’s eyes going wide and they locked onto the first thing they saw, Vesemir, pounding into Lambert at the same pace Geralt was fucking into him. His mind stuttered as he realized Eskel had also shifted, thrusting deep into Lambert’s mouth in counterpoint to Vesemir. 

“Come now, lark, surely you had more questions for Vesemir.” Geralt said, voice barely showing any strain. “Though I suppose if you don’t, we can give him a show.”

Jaskier hadn’t even been able to string together a thought long enough to grab for his cock, which was an angry reddish-purple and leaking heavily. He’d only been able to clutch at Geralt’s hands and arms, which were now covered in small scratch marks that were already healing. “Fuck… Geralt… please… let me come… I want to feel you.” 

Geralt shifted, giving himself a bit more leverage and pounding up into his beloved bard, the slick sound of their joining overshadowed by sounds of the other Witchers across from him. “You want to come, lark? You can come when Lambert does. He’s gorgeous when he’s like that.” He thrust up a few more times, then Vesemir caught his eye and nodded. “Go on, watch him.”

J askier blinked open blurry eyes and watched as Vesemir pounded harshly into Lambert, who was still swallowing down Eskel’s cock like it was nothing. 

Vesemir shifted his stance again, and now Jaskier could see exactly how thick he was as the older wolf sank into Lambert’s stretched hole. Lambert let out a muffled groan around Eskel and shuddered, legs threatening to give out. Vesemir wrapped both hands around Lambert’s hips and held him steady then looked at Jaskier with a small grin, “What do you think, bard? Do you like how wide he’s stretched? How eager he is to take my cock? Don’t you wish you were in his place?” The grin showed off canine teeth that looked just as sharp as Geralt's and he nodded, throat dry.

“Good,” Vesemir purred. “Tell him how much you like it.”

Jaskier swallowed. Never let it be said he didn’t know how to talk. “Lambert, gods, you look so good. Stretched wide―fuck, Geralt please―around Vesemir. He’s splitting you open so good. Fuck, you’ve been…” Jaskier broke off with a gasp and shuddered as Geralt’s thrusts dragged across his prostate. “You’ve been taking Eskel for hours, I can see him in your throat, he’s so deep. Bet it feels amazing. I can see how―Geralt, there, right there―how hot it makes him, how much he likes it.”

Lambert shivered as Jaskier spoke and Vesemir gripped him hard as he thrust forward and stilled, leaning down and biting at Lambert’s shoulder. Those sharp teeth sank in just enough not to break the skin as the oldest wolf let out a low growl of satisfaction. Vesemir rocked in a bit, grinding more than thrusting as he rumbled, “You can come now, pup.”

Geralt slowed his thrusts, echoing Vesemir’s grinding roll and Jaskier moaned. He was distracted from his predicament by the way Lambert suddenly arched his back, thrusting his hips back onto Vesemir’s cock as he spilled, untouched, over the leather of the chaise. Jaskier barely heard the low muffled whimper the youngest wolf let out because Geralt chose that moment to set a vicious, punishing pace inside of him. “AH! Geralt, Geralt, please! He came. Let me come. Need it, Geralt please.” 

Geralt’s breath flowed over Jaskier’s skin, hot and damp and just starting to deepen from the rather vigorous fucking. Jaskier could feel his hips starting to lose their rhythm as Geralt neared his climax. “You did make him come. Did a good job, making him all hot and bothered. Come whenever you’d like, lark,” Geralt purred in his ear.

“Thank you,” Jaskier gasped. He thought he was about to come then and there, but then he caught sight of Eskel. The other wolf was fucking into Lambert’s slack mouth and throat, pulling all the way back, before thrusting forward. He saw Lambert bring one hand up to grip Eskel’s hip and the bigger wolf thrust in, tipping his head back with a loud moan. Jaskier could actually see the flexing of Lambert’s throat as Eskel spilled into it. The sight made his cock twitch and leak wildly. “Please, please.”

Vesemir’s eyes snapped to him, followed by Eskel’s and then Lambert’s as the Witcher pulled off the huge cock. Vesemir’s gaze was hot, almost like a physical sensation on his skin. “Come for us, Jaskier,” Vesemir ordered and Jaskier couldn’t help but obey with a long whine. He spilled, untouched, across the stone floor, a spurt hitting Geralt’s calf, then his thigh. 

Geralt felt the desperate clench and flutter of Jaskier’s ass around his cock and gave a series of quick, deep thrusts, then pressed deep and spilled inside his bard. They both gasped for air and Jaskier leaned back against him, uncaring that his legs and softening cock were still on display. 

It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath, and even Geralt had started to sound a bit winded. Jaskier nuzzled under Geralt’s chin and gave a tired smile to the three other Wolves. “Fuck. This is going to be the best winter ever.” He felt Geralt twitch inside him and couldn't resist the temptation to squeeze down in response, which earned him a gentle swat.

Eskel laughed, “I should hope so, we’re certainly going to try to make it that way. Should get cleaned up and head to bed.” Vesemir nodded in agreement and pulled himself free from the clutch of Lambert’s ass, gently stroking the young Wolf’s side as he did so. Eskel looked down at Lambert, who was resting a sweaty forehead against his hip, gently nuzzling at his groin. “Come on, Lamb, up you get. We have to wash up.”

Jaskier, for his part, couldn’t help but watch the slow, steady trickle of come that leaked from the Witcher’s slightly gaping hole. It wasn’t gaping for long, as Vesemir picked up the plug and gently pressed it inside, pulling a whimper from Lambert. Jaskier watched as Lambert’s hole stretched again to accept the metal object, then clenched down on the flared base. Lambert murmured something, soft enough that Jaskier couldn’t hear it, but Vesemir responded by leaning over and placing a soft kiss on the back of the young Wolf’s neck.

Eskel nudged Lambert, pulling him away from his cock and ignoring the whine it got him. “Off, Lamb, you can have more later.” 

“Come, we’ll show you the hot springs,” Vesemir said, helping Lambert to stand. The younger Wolf nuzzled under Vesemir’s chin once before pulling away as Eskel wrapped an arm around him.

Geralt stood, maneuvering Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier didn’t complain, he wasn’t entirely certain his legs would hold him. He rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder as Vesemir led the way, with Eskel and Lambert following. Jaskier couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hypnotic swaying of the bushy, furry tail between Lambert’s legs. The youngest Witcher looked back over his shoulder and deliberately swung his hips, making the tail wag with a grin.

The hot springs were well deserving of their name. There were two pools, one small and one huge, that took up almost half of the giant room. A small conical stone jutted up beside the small pool, looking vaguely like something he’d seen in one of his textbooks. A mountain called a volcano, which spat out molten rock. This rock, however, had steaming hot water flowing from its peak, down carved channels that led to the small pool. A second set of carved channels at the rim of the pool had the water running into the bigger pool, in multiple places. 

The room smelled of water, minerals, and hot stone, a smell Jaskier was sure he would grow to love. It was warm enough here to remove the warmth charms, which were hung on a peg, before he went to step into the water of the small pool. 

Geralt grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back, “Not that one. That’s the Kettle, only Witchers can handle that heat.” 

Jaskier nodded, he’d seen and felt how hot Geralt would sometimes get his bathwater and had no wish to turn into a boiled bard. He followed Geralt down a short set of stairs and stepped into the hot water, a low moan escaping him as he was enveloped by the heat.

“Mmm... this is amazing. I don’t think I’ll ever want to get out.” He moaned, letting his body float a bit in the water. The rim of the pool was smooth, both from time and care of some long-ago artisan. There were benches carved into the wall of the pool, and from what he could feel, probably went all the way around. 

Geralt tugged at him, pulling him close. “It gets hotter the closer you go towards the kettle. Do  _ not _ cook yourself.”

Jaskier stuck his tongue out at his lover then gave a shocked gasp as Geralt slid two fingers into his hole. He wasn’t sore, it was just a surprise. The wide fingers began to scissor apart and Jaskier gasped at the feeling of warm water in the most intimate of areas.

“Easy, lark, I'm just cleaning you out a bit,” Geralt said, and Jaskier relaxed into him, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder. From the gasps nearby, Lambert was getting a similar treatment. The fingers kept up their stretching and massaging for another moment or two, then they pulled away, and Jaskier lifted his head to get a good look around.

There was an inset shelf on the opposite side of the pool and Jaskier could see it held a variety of bottles and jars. He suspected they were soaps and hair oils. Geralt had just a  _ bit _ of a hedonistic side when it came to baths, and now he knew where it came from. The upper pool, the Kettle, was big enough for twenty Witchers, maybe more, while this one was nearly twice the size. 

A door caught his attention briefly, but he dismissed it. It was light-colored, compared to most of the doors he’d seen, and inset into the rock. He supposed it went to some storage room. They had to store towels somewhere after all. 

Overhead, a thick sheet of quartz glowed, shedding a comfortable, dim light throughout the cavern. He’d seen something like that before, but on a much smaller scale. His grandmother had owned a light stone, a hunk of quartz spelled to absorb sunlight or firelight and shed it during the night. Safer than candles or lamps, but at a much higher cost. He’d never seen one as big as the one overhead. 

Eskel stood and, leaving Lambert in Vesemir’s lap, moved towards the shelf. The young Wolf lolled in the older man's lap, an arm decorated with a silver bracelet wrapped around Vesemir's broad shoulders

Geralt gave Jaskier a little shove off his lap. “Go pick whichever soap you’d like.”

Jaskier nodded and stood, noting that the pool reached just above his waist here at the edge, but it deepened to chest level as he moved through the center. Eskel was still looking through the jars when he stepped up beside the big Witcher.

Eskel smiled at him and handed him a bottle. “This is Geralt’s favorite.” The bottle was beautiful, but not delicate, and dark green. It was perhaps a quarter full. 

Jaskier opened it and the scent of cedar and smoke and leather wafted out. “Ohh, that’s nice.” He picked up another and sniffed it, then hastily put it back. It smelled like a flower shop puked into a bottle. “Ew.”

Eskel chuckled. “Yeah, no one likes it, but it stays, just in case.” Eskel leaned in and sniffed at Jaskier’s hair. “Hmm… try this one.” He picked up a squat blue bottle and handed it over.

Jaskier warily pried out the cork and sniffed it then hummed in delight. It smelled of bergamot, honey, and warm wood. It was delicious. He took the bar of soap, not as rough as he’d imagined it would be, and brought the items over to Geralt while Eskel carried his items to the other two Witchers.

Geralt took the bottles and the soap, “Alright, let's get you clean.” 

Jaskier relaxed, letting Geralt soap him up, sitting him on the smooth edge of the pool so he could properly wash Jaskier’s lower body and legs, paying special attention to his hole, cock and balls until Jaskier gently smacked his hands away. Once clean, Jaskier turned the tables, scrubbing Geralt down, running his fingers teasingly along the Witcher’s half-hard cock, and brushing over his hole.

They scrubbed their hair, each doing their own, lest they get distracted, it was late after all. Once rinsed, they lounged in the warm water and Jaskier drifted, letting the warm water soothe him, secure in Geralt’s arms so he didn’t float away. He vaguely heard Eskel and Lambert speaking but he mentally waved it away, he’d have plenty of time to wrangle stories out of them later. After all, he had all winter.

Jaskier barely remembered being lifted, very carefully, from the water and being wrapped in a towel before Geralt carried him upstairs. He woke up briefly as Geralt laid him gently on the bed, pulling the warm blankets over him. Geralt slid in beside Jaskier, wrapping warm, strong arms around his waist and pulling the bard onto his chest.

He opened his mouth to wish his lover a good night, but all that came out was a sleepy mumble that earned him a gentle kiss as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us through this story! We hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	6. A Full Moon Means The Wolves Will Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's first full day at Kaer Morhen, and his first introduction to the potions collection!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [ Locktea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locktea) for being our beta for this monstrosity. We really appreciate it.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Kissing, Blowjobs, Knotting, Multiple Orgasms, Self-Lubrication, Mentions of Enema (not described)

Dawn broke and with it came Vesemir, opening each door and waking up his pups with a call of their names. Geralt blinked awake when his door opened and hauled himself out of bed, much to the displeasure of his bard, who grumbled and wrapped the blankets tighter. “Time to get up, Jask.” Geralt said and smiled at the rude hand sign that was shoved out of the blanket, then quickly withdrawn. 

Geralt set out Jaskier’s clothing near the fire, knowing that by now the charm had run out of power. Luckily the things didn’t take that long to charge, only about eight hours by a hot fire. He knew his bard though, and made a mental note to have Vesemir make plenty of extras. Having Jaskier naked and available all winter was appealing, as was the lack of bitching from Lambert about the cold.

He heard Vesemir open Eskel’s door and the sleepy murmur in response. He pulled on his own clothing and shook Jaskier’s shoulder again. “Come on, Jask.” A hand batted at him and Geralt smirked then grabbed the blankets and furs, pulling them off the bed with a firm tug. 

“ _ Holy fuck it’s cold you ass! FUCK. _ ” Jaskier shot out of the bed, cursing a blue streak. 

Geralt threw the bard’s clothing at his face. “Better than if Vesemir had to come up to get you. Come on, he’s making breakfast.” He heard Vesemir open Lambert’s door and the grumpy snarl that was Lambert’s usual response to being woken up.

Jaskier grumbled but tugged on the clothing, which were warm from the fire. He pulled on the heavy winter boots and they headed downstairs. The long table had a huge pot sitting in the middle of it and several covered plates. Jaskier sniffed the air and his mouth watered at the scent of bacon.

Eskel was next down, scrubbing a hand through his hair with a yawn. Vesemir followed, and waved at them to help themselves as he went to the kitchen door and down the short set of stairs. He returned with a heavy clay pitcher and five mugs, which contained a hot spicy cider. 

The fire was already roaring in the fireplace, heating up the space nicely. Geralt took Jaskier’s pendant and held it out, as did Eskel, and Vesemir took them, dropping them in the ornate box, which lit up softly. 

“Where’s Lambert?” Jaskier asked, sipping at his cider.

“Being a laz-a-bed, as usual,” Vesemir replied. “He’s hard to get up in the mornings. I’ll go back up in a minute.” 

Eskel stood, grabbing a slice of bacon. “I’ll get him. If you do it, he’ll be pissy all day.” Eskel headed back upstairs.

A few minutes later there was a thump and Eskel came back down, holding the bacon just in front of Lambert’s nose, leading him like a puppy. Lambert’s eyes were still half-closed and to be frank, he looked utterly adorable with his fluffy hair going every which way, and sleep lines pressed into his cheek. 

  
Eskel led him to the table and let him have the strip of bacon, which Lambert immediately began gnawing on as Eskel filled his plate and poured him cider. Mechanically, Lambert began to eat, but the food seemed to wake him up and by the time he was halfway through, he was capable of talking. 

Lambert finally looked up from his food and peered at Jaskier. “So, you’re the bard.” 

Jaskier nodded, “Yes, I’m Jaskier. It’s nice to meet you, Lambert.”

“Hmmm. You take Geralt’s cock pretty good, you’ll do.” 

Jaskier choked on his cider, coughing hard and eyes watering as he gasped. “Fuck!” He caught Lambert’s smirk and glared. “I was wrong, you are an ass… it's a nice one though.”   
  
Lambert snorted. “You’re quick.” 

“Not when it counts,” Jaskier shot back and grinned as Lambert nodded approvingly.

“Good. It’ll make for a fun winter indeed. Means you should be able to keep up with the rest of us.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth to retort when Vesemir cut in, “As much as I’d love for you to continue bonding, there’s still work to be done. Just because you decided to sleep in doesn’t mean you get extra time for breakfast.” At this realization, Lambert began to eat faster, stuffing his face and drinking cider faster than Jaskier believed possible.

“Geralt, Eskel. South wall. Lambert, east embankment. North is still good, but the west is going to take all three of you to get it repaired.” The three younger Witchers nodded and finished off their plates.

Jaskier eyed the nearly empty table. Vesemir had loaded the table with food, but now there was little left, other than a few fluffy biscuits, which Eskel was slicing open and stuffing with the remaining bacon before wrapping them up in a bit of cloth and handing them to Geralt and Lambert.

The three Witchers stood and filed out the door, Lambert swiping at Geralt as the older Witcher darted out the door. 

“What about me?” Jaskier asked as Vesemir began gathering plates and dishes.

“You’ll help me first with the dishes, then the animals, then smaller chores like cleaning and laundry and dealing with the very last of the harvest.” Vesemir pointed at the big pot. “Grab that and follow me.”

Jaskier did as he was asked and carried the big pot down the short steps into the kitchen. It was a big space, with massive tables and huge cooking fires, only one of which burned. Jaskier blinked, suddenly reminded that once, this place had fed dozens, if not hundreds of Witchers, where now it only fed a few.

Washing up didn’t take long, with so few dishes, and Vesemir was apparently one of those who cleaned as he cooked. Once the dishes and work table were cleaned, Vesemir directed Jaskier to bring him the flour. Bread baking was a constant activity in any household, and Kaer Morhen proved no different. It didn’t take long for the dough to be mixed up, and Vesemir began shaping the small loaves to leave to rise.

“The boys already know this, but you should learn how we decide who is the tail for the day.”

“Didn’t you say it had to do with that little wooden tail?” Jaskier asked curiously.

“I did,” Vesemir held it up then placed it into one of the loaves he was shaping. Once he was done, there was no way to tell which loaf might have it. “They’ll come out and get tossed in the basket. It’s luck, usually, that decides who gets it.” He shaped a dozen smaller rolls with the remaining dough.   
  


“Usually?” 

Vesemir gave him a sharp grin. “I know when I put it in my own.” He indicated a larger loaf, twice the size of the eight smaller ones. “Sometimes, I don’t put it in any of them.” He arranged the loaves and rolls on the tray and covered them with a soft cloth, then placed them near the warm fire to rise. “Now, time you met the animals.” 

Jaskier was led out into the brisk air, glad of the extra clothing Geralt had purchased for him, and they made their way to the stables. Roach leaned her head out of her box and huffed at him as Scorpion nickered a greeting. There was a movement in the box and a goat appeared, hopping over Scorpion’s head. The big black horse didn’t even twitch.

“That would be Lil’ Bleater, she’s Eskel’s goat. You’ve met Scorpion,” Vesemir moved further into the stables. “This is Penelope.” 

Jaskier looked into the stall and was greeted by a dark brown rump. A big brown head swung around to look at him curiously. Penelope was a rather large mule, missing half an ear. She looked at him then swished her tail, smacking her feed bucket. 

“Grumpy old thing,” Vesemir muttered, patting the broad rump of the mule. She ignored him, choosing to smack her bucket again. 

Jaskier continued the tour of the stables, being shown the chicken coop, which spanned three stalls, as well as the feed area. Vesemir showed him how to mix the animal’s feed and distribute it. Jaskier neatly dodged several dozen chicks that crowded around the feed pans and their much more aggressive mothers. 

Penelope, Scorpion, and Roach were easy to feed, though Penelope tried to stick her head into the bucket as he poured. Vesemir gave her a rap between the eyes and she brayed at him, but backed up. “Don’t let her bully you. She’ll spill her feed everywhere then complain for more. Loudly.” Roach and Scorpion were far more polite about their food, as was Lil’ Bleater, who apparently was fed in a bucket that forced her to stand on her hind legs. “She’ll bolt her food otherwise, and then Eskel will be beside himself until she’s better,” Vesemir advised. 

Feeding the animals didn’t take long, and then Jaskier was shown the laundry and the basic cleaning, which honestly wasn’t much. Vesemir did a lot of it and much of the keep wasn’t in use. Laundry was laundry, though there was a lot of it, which, considering last night's activities, he wasn’t surprised about. 

Vesemir took him back to the kitchen to begin preparing lunch, which was an assortment of roasted venison and vegetables, with a platter of cheese and a few shiny red apples. It smelled delicious, as did the now baking bread rolls. The loaves were still rising. While they finished, Jaskier helped cut up the venison for the night’s stew, tossing the meat into the huge pot to start heating. It didn’t take long for the rolls to finish and Vesemir tossed them into a bread basket with a warm cloth.

It was cold outside, but Vesemir told him lunch would be served at the tables near the wall under repair. When they’d carried the trays out, he’d understood why. He was also very glad his chores were on the ground. 

"Repairs" was apparently a code word for doing death-defying masonry fifty feet up in the air, with no safety rope, using boulders the size of Jaskier’s torso. “You sure they’re gonna be okay up there?” He asked, eyeing the drop.

“They’re fine, they’ve been climbing that wall since they were kids,” Vesemir grunted, putting the heavy tray on the table and relieving Jaskier of his much lighter burden of plates, a bread basket, and mugs. “Go get the cider, then we’ll eat.”

Jaskier did so, carefully wrapping the hot clay container in cloth. He returned to find everyone at the table, the younger Witchers absolutely COVERED in mortar and dust and dirt. Now he knew why Geralt had grabbed some of the rattiest clothing he’d ever seen. Their hands and faces were clean and several dirty rags hung over a bucket of what was probably freezing cold water marking their cleanup. 

Vesemir passed out the rolls, which were split down the middle, and the Witchers stuffed the roasted meat into them and loaded their plates with the roasted vegetables. Jaskier copied them and found the rolls were light and airy, butter sweet and perfect with the roasted venison.

Lunch was a quick affair, and Eskel and Geralt scaled back up the wall to continue their work as Lambert trotted off to do his. Jaskier carried in the empty trays. There wasn’t a bit of meat or cheese left, and they’d pocketed the apples. 

  
Vesemir had him set the trays down by the washbasin, then tossed him a large basket with a carrying strap. “Need to finish the apple harvest before the snow falls again.”

Jaskier nodded. He actually enjoyed picking apples. His family had a small orchard and he’d loved sitting out there, writing little ditties, and hiding from his instructors. He shouldered the basket and followed Vesemir out to the small orchard, which had only a few trees still fruiting, most of which were ripe. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon out there, filling basket after basket of apples, and taking them down into the cold storage rooms under the keep. There were more to pick, and would be until the snow fell and froze the rest. Jaskier was just glad his chores kept his feet on solid ground.

Partway through the afternoon, Vesemir vanished back into the keep and Jaskier could smell the coal smoke from the forge, as Vesemir presumably worked on the small charms. 

Finally, Vesemir returned and looked up at the sky, “Last bushel, then it’s back in for the night.”

They put the last of the day’s pickings in the storeroom and Jaskier rubbed at sore muscles. He was a bit tired, walking alongside Roach was great for his legs, not so much for his upper arm strength. He heard the chatter of the Witchers as he came up the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. 

The three Witchers were covered in dirt, grit, mortar and who knew what else. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but there they were, stripping off dusty clothing in the little foyer with the benches and tossing them into a convenient basket. His cock twitched in his pants as he saw them all dirty and disheveled from a hard day's work. 

He missed what Eskel said, but Geralt’s guffaw made him smile. Lambert clearly didn't appreciate whatever the joke was as the younger Wolf attempted to tackle Eskel from behind. He failed miserably, as Eskel used his own momentum against the smaller Witcher and pinned him to the floor, slapping Lambert’s ass once for good measure before letting him up.

Again, Jaskier’s cock twitched and three heads snapped around to look at him, three matching sharp-toothed grins making him shudder with arousal. 

“BATH!” Vesemir’s voice called out. “All of you. Make sure you get  _ clean _ .” There was definitely an emphasis on the last word and Jaskier nodded as he followed the mostly naked Witchers down to the hot spring.

Instead of getting into the water right away, the Witchers moved to the back of the pool, where the water drained down and away, then dipped bucketfuls of hot water from the pool, dumping them over their heads. The majority of the dust and dirt rinsed away and Geralt and Eskel gave themselves a quick and dirty scrub with a handful of rough soap before sliding into the pool. Lambert, who wasn’t as filthy, didn’t bother after rising, just slid into the pool with a groan.

Jaskier hesitated and Geralt caught his eye, “If you’re gross, rinse off first. Cleaning out the pool is a messy process and no one wants to do it.” The buckets were placed on the rim of the spring, just in front of the door he’d noticed yesterday.

“Got it,” Jaskier stepped into the water and over to the soap shelf, grabbing the soaps and hair oils. The pool had a rather brisk flow, so suds didn’t linger, which was nice. 

The Witchers chatted back and forth as they scrubbed, and Jaskier found himself laughing at Lambert’s sharp jabs and quick tongue. 

Jaskier was rinsing the soap out of his hair when he surfaced to hear Eskel ask, “Does your bard know how to clean himself?”

Jaskier snorted, “What kind of question is that? Of course I know how.”

“Show us then,” Eskel said, a smirk tugging at his lips and Jaskier shuddered. How could they get his blood up from just a look or a smirk?

Jaskier made a show of positioning himself on the edge of the pool and laid back, supporting his weight on an elbow as he reached down, cleaning his cock and balls thoroughly. The glare he leveled at Eskel would have turned a lesser man to stone. 

Lambert watched intently while Geralt lounged, a similar smirk on his lips. Eskel raised an eyebrow, “And your ass? You know how to clean that?”

Jaskier flushed, halfway between angry and aroused. He re-applied the soap and turned over, reaching between his cheeks and scrubbing. 

“And inside?” Came that deep voice again, it wasn’t condescending, but Jaskier huffed anyway, sinking a finger inside himself. He dipped into the water to rinse and crossed his arms, leveling a look at Eskel. 

“Told you.”

Eskel chuckled. “Good, but not good enough for our purposes. Once the snow falls, it's easier, since the pull is in the mornings, but for now…” Eskel trailed off as Geralt stood. “Let’s show you how it’s done.”

Geralt ushered him gently to the edge of the pool where the Witchers had left the buckets, then up and over the ledge. Lambert smirked and opened the door to the small room and Jaskier stared. A rack of towels lined one wall, he’d been right that this room stored towels, but also much more. Taking up most of the room were a pair of benches, padded with soft-looking leather and tilted slightly at one end. 

Above them hung a large leather sack with a hose hanging down. Lambert stepped into the room, carrying one of the buckets full of water, and poured it into the bag.

Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what that was. Any noble child did. Colonics were commonly used to treat all sorts of ailments, as a first treatment, anyway, before a mage or doctor was called. He’d suffered through them as a child, sick with fever or stomach issues. Sometimes it had helped, usually it didn’t. 

He balked, “You, you use those?” He couldn’t help how high his voice got. His nurses had always insisted on using cold water, with all sorts of spices and herbs in the water. It never felt good, making him cramp and cry.

“Easy, Lark,” Geralt said, running a soothing hand down his back. “It's gentle, and we’re here. We do this every day we get the tail, cleaning up like you did is good for a round or two, but as much as we fuck,” Geralt nipped at his shoulder, “Every little bit helps.”

Jaskier nodded and let Eskel pull him gently into the room.

* * *

Jaskier left the small room feeling cleaner than he ever had, and joined Geralt in the pool again as Eskel and Lambert finished up. “Well?” Geralt asked, pulling him close.

“Alright, so that wasn’t terrible.” He flushed, remembering Geralt’s hand on his stomach, gentling away any cramps before they formed and playing with his cock and nipples. 

Lambert and Eskel left the small room, dipping into the hot pool again themselves until the clang of metal had them perking up. “Dinner is ready.” They wrapped towels around themselves in lieu of their clothing, which needed washing, and headed into the main hall.

Vesemir met them at the top of the stairs, holding out the little charms, which Eskel and Lambert hooked onto their medallions. Geralt handed his over to Jaskier. “I’ll steal one from Lambert or Eskel if I need to.” 

Jaskier dropped it over his head and followed Geralt up the stairs. Geralt dug around in his clothing chest and Jaskier into his bags, pulling out breeches and a shirt. He turned around to see Geralt lacing up his breeches, conspicuously without a shirt, and remembered that wearing a shirt meant you didn’t want to be included at that particular time. With a grin and a shrug, Jaskier tossed his shirt aside and tugged on his breeches, lacing them loosely, as Geralt had.

As they went down the stairs, Jaskier could smell the scent of fresh bread and something delicious. Eskel and Lambert had beaten them down and were already seated, with Vesemir at the head of the table. The huge pot of thick venison stew sat on the table and smelled even better than when Jaskier had helped set it to cooking this afternoon. A massive bowl of Zerrikanian rice stood nearby. 

Vesemir pulled the cloth off the bread basket and Jaskier noticed each Witcher give a little twitch of excitement, almost like a horse at the racing gate. 

Jaskier looked into the basket but he could find no identifier to mark which one had the little wooden tail inside. He looked up to find Vesemir’s smirking. “You can’t even tell by weight, the boys have tried. It’s a guessing game. You won’t always know if it’s in a loaf either.” 

Vesemir filled the bowls with rice and stew and handed them out. Lambert reached for the bread and Vesemir smacked his hand. “Let Jaskier pick first,” He looked at the bard, “If you get it, and don’t feel up to it yet, just set it in the middle of the table. That is always an option. One of the pups is sure to pick it up.”

Jaskier grabbed the largest loaf and handed it to Vesemir, then grabbed two for himself. The others reached in and snatched up the remaining loaves and Lambert immediately ripped both of his open. He pouted momentarily as he realized he hadn’t gotten the tail before his stomach took over and he dug into the stew.

Geralt and Eskel copied him, without the shedding of their rolls. All three younger Witchers ate voraciously, making up for the lack of meals on the Path throughout the rest of the year. Jaskier and Vesemir ate more slowly, and all three were asking for a second helping before Jaskier was even halfway through his own bowl. Vesemir filled them again, slightly smaller amounts, but still a hearty portion, and Geralt and Eskel finally turned to look at their rolls. 

Like Jaskier, they’d eaten one already, no tail to be seen, and they picked up the loaves as one. Jaskier ripped his in half and felt a minor stab of disappointment that it wasn’t in his loaf, then he heard a small clatter and looked up. Everyone looked at Geralt, who was looking at the table where the small carved tail had landed when he tore open his bread. 

Lambert grinned, a feral thing that Jaskier just knew meant trouble. Eskel arched an eyebrow and gave an appreciative smirk, licking his lips. Vesemir’s face was harder to read, but Jaskier could see the glimmer of amusement in the golden eyes. Geralt heaved a heavy sigh, but Jaskier could tell it was not one of annoyance or frustration, but one of anticipation. 

Lambert moved to stand, his bowl still half full. “Finish eating,” Vesemir said and Lambert glared but obeyed the command, stilling and biting savagely into his roll in frustration. Vesemir leveled a flat look at the youngest Wolf, “Keep it up and you’re last.”

  
Lambert flinched at that and busied himself with his remaining stew, mopping up the last of it with the heel of bread remaining. The rest of the Witchers finished scraping up the last remaining bits in their bowls and Jaskier was rather unsurprised to find the pot was almost completely empty. He’d been warned that during the first few weeks, the Witchers that walked the Path ate like food was going out of style until they sated themselves. Geralt wasn’t as deprived as Eskel and Lambert were, thanks to Jaskier and his lute, but he still ate heartily. 

Jaskier knew Geralt could eat far more than he usually did at inns, the Witcher consuming half a small deer was not unusual when they were camping. Jaskier moved to help pick up the dishes but Vesemir waved him away, sending him into the main room with the other Wolves.

Eskel motioned him to follow as the tall Witcher moved to a set of drawers by the hearth. “You get to choose the potion we use tonight. We’ll show them to you, one at a time, so you can see what they do. We all have combinations we like and you’ll learn which you prefer us to take.”

Jaskier thought back to Vesemir's… impressive explanation as the older man had fucked Lambert without once breaking concentration. “Full Moon,” he said, hearing Geralt swallow audibly and seeing Lambert’s grin widen. 

Eskel reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of silvery potions, tossing one to Lambert, who caught it neatly, then downed it in one move.

“What about Vesemir? Doesn’t he need one too?” 

“Nah,” Lambert said, stripping out of his breeches, “old man has a permanent one. It’s a Wolf thing, Take Full Moon enough, and it becomes part of you.” He leered at Jaskier, “Strip off, bard, you’ll enjoy this.”

Jaskier started to unlace his breeches and watched Eskel rifle through the drawers again, pulling out two bottles, one pale green, and the other pale orange. Both had long, thin necks that were slightly curved. 

“Watch and learn, songbird,” Eskel said, moving to Geralt's side. Jaskier hadn’t even seen Geralt strip but the Witcher was naked now, kneeling on the soft bearskin rug with his ass high and chest pressed to the fur. They knelt and Eskel held up the bottles, “These are designed to go directly inside with next to no prep, they have a carrier oil, but only a drop or two. The skinny neck helps administer it. The green is Maribor, so he can take cock and knots all night without getting sore. The orange is Swallow. Geralt prefers to make his own slick if he has the chance, says it’s less messy,” Eskel lowered his voice and added teasingly, “I think it makes his hole even more sloppy and wet. It gets him so loose.”

  
  
Geralt moaned as Eskel spoke and the broad Witcher smirked, then slid the skinny, slightly curved, neck of the orange bottle into Geralt and tipped it up. Geralt let out a low whine as the small amount of liquid flowed into him. It only took a second or two and then Eskel pulled it out, smearing the last remaining drop that clung to the spout around Geralt’s hole.

“This is his favorite part,” Lambert said, kneeling beside Jaskier. “Watch his hole.” After a few moments, Jaskier saw Geralt flex his muscles, making the tight hole wink slightly and he saw a tiny bead of something that was definitely not oil slide out, slowly making its way down towards Geralt’s balls. 

Jaskier started to reach out, then pulled back and looked at Lambert. “Is… is that..?”

Lambert chuckled darkly, “Yep. Go on, touch him. He’s nice and wet inside.” Lambert rested his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder, both to watch and to take in the bard’s aroused scent.    
  


Jaskier reached out again, almost reverently, and slid a finger through the tiny bead, then up and pressed into Geralt’s ass. The hole opened easily, slick and hot. Jaskier had slept with many women in his time, and this was both the hottest and the wettest he’d ever felt. Geralt moaned and pressed back, the slick spilling out around Jaskier’s finger.

“Give him two, he can take them. Swallow makes him soft and open.” Jaskier did as Eskel told him, sliding a second finger in. He sunk both fingers up to the third knuckle with only a hint of resistance that vanished as Geralt arched his hips even more and relaxed into the fingers.

Jaskier moaned himself as slick, more than he’d ever seen a woman produce, spilled between his fingers and over Geralt’s balls. “Fuck, Geralt. Eskel wasn’t kidding. You’re so fucking wet like this, and you open up so nicely. We could have been using this for years instead of that tin of slick. I know you didn’t like that feel of it.” He crooked his fingers and Geralt bucked back against him with a gasp.

“Can I put in the next one? It won’t burn me will it?” Jaskier asked, scissoring his fingers and playing with Geralt’s hole.

“You should be fine. We have White Honey nearby if it’s an issue.” Eskel handed over the second bottle, also with a long spout, and Jaskier slid a third finger inside, spreading them wide. It was probably wider than necessary, but the view of Geralt’s hole fluttering and gaping was worth it. Jaskier slid the long neck between his fingers, making sure the end was past his fingertips, and tilted it, letting the potion pour into Geralt.

The effect was nearly immediate as Geralt’s hole seemed to relax further. Jaskier twisted his fingers, deliberately avoiding the Witcher’s prostate. Geralt growled lowly at the teasing move and tried to thrust backwards, only to be stopped by Eskel’s hand on his hip. 

Geralt growled again, louder, “Jaskier, quit being a fucking tease and fuck me.” The white-haired Witcher glared back over his shoulder. The tips of Geralt’s ears were red, and Jaskier knew that meant he was more than ready. 

Jaskier gave an indulgent chuckle and pulled his fingers out, deliberately dragging them over Geralt’s prostate. “Temper, temper, love,” He soothed, using the slick on his fingers to slick himself up. He groaned at the feel. Meletile’s cunt, it felt better than any tinned salve he’d ever used. “I suppose you’re ready.”

“You think it feels good like that, you should give him a test ride,” Vesemir’s voice caught Jaskier by surprise and he looked over his shoulder at the older Wolf. He’d been rather distracted the previous night and hadn’t gotten a good look at the Witcher’s cock, but now he was greeted with a more than respectable cock, wide with a well-defined head. Not as long as Eskel or Geralt, but definitely thicker. 

Vesemir caught his gaze and smirked, “Get on with it, bard, or Geralt’s bound to get demanding. Well, more demanding.” The older Witcher sat in one of the large comfortable chairs, nearly close enough to touch. 

Jaskier moved closer and knelt behind Geralt, who rolled his hips in invitation. Jaskier rubbed the head of his cock against the soft wet hole and teased just the head in. He’d ignored his own need while playing with Geralt, and investigating the new effects of the potions but now he didn’t want to wait any longer. He pressed in and sunk to the hilt with no effort at all.

He could feel the clutch of Geralt’s ass around him, how hot and wet it was and it took a massive effort not to come then and there. “Fuck, you’re so wet. If only you’d told me about this one when we first started, “ He thrust slowly, rocking his hips and enjoying the feel, “we could have been having so much fun with this.” Jaskier groaned as Geralt clenched around him. “Looks like we’d better make up for lost time.”

Geralt’s nod was lost as Jaskier began to move faster, fucking like he meant it. He always did, but now he put his back into it, knowing that between the slick, hot vice around him and the knowledge that Geralt was going to be thoroughly fucked by him and the other Wolves, it wasn’t going to take him long to come. He gripped Geralt’s hips tightly and pounded into the willing hole. 

The slick sound of his cock thrusting into the wet hold and the slap of flesh on flesh filled the room and Geralt’s quiet groans echoed them. Jaskier’s ears twitched and he caught sight of Eskel and Lambert both stroking themselves, and he could see Lambert’s other hand was on Vesemir’s cock.

The added stimulus was too much and Jaskier’s hips stuttered as orgasm crashed over him. He groaned as he spilled deep inside Geralt and the Witcher echoed it, clenching tightly around his sensitive cock. Jaskier pulled out, loathe to lose the tight warmth, but knowing he was in for quite a show from the Wolves.

Lambert was quick to move in, practically shouldering Jaskier aside and sliding his cock into Geralt’s loose hole. “How many times do you think we can knot his pretty ass before he’s too loose to keep us in?” Lambert set a brutal pace, fucking hard into Geralt, who had braced his arms on the furs, hands clenched to keep him in place. 

It was a vast difference from the lazy, calm Lambert Jaskier had seen last night and much closer to the brash, sharp-tongued Witcher he’d seen today. The youngest Wolf reached forward and Jaskier could pinpoint when Lambert found Geralt’s nipples due to the yelp and sudden bucking of Geralt’s hips. 

Eskel hummed in thought, watching Geralt move with Lambert. “I give him halfway through the second round.” 

Lambert chuckled darkly and his hands left Geralt’s chest, one wrapping around a hip and the other twining into Geralt’s white hair and tugging slightly, making the Witcher moan. “Eskel has less faith in you than I do. I was gonna say the end of the second. Especially now that I can feel how tight you are after taking Jaskier.” Lambert thrust hard, drawing a whine from Geralt, “No way you’ll be tight after Vesemir’s gone twice, anyhow, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.” 

Jaskier was starting to get hard again, and reached down, stroking himself lightly as he watched Lambert fuck Geralt. The younger Witcher was definitely smaller than his brothers, a little less broad, but was just as strong. He could tell that just from the way Lambert’s thrusts had Geralt moaning with every stroke. He looked at Eskel, who had moved and had Vesemir’s hand buried in his hair as they stroked themselves.

“So, how many rounds can you go?” Jaskier asked. He could go two, sometimes three himself- on a good day- one benefit of being just past his teens. Geralt had been grumpily adamant about waiting until Jaskier was twenty before going beyond just kissing- even though he’d declared his love early on- but it had been worth it. Geralt had even encouraged his exploration with others for those two years, and after. 

Eskel smirked, “Without Tawny or Maribor? Three to four a night. With them? Hmm… I think we hit eight at least last year. Geralt always comes more though, I think he hit ten.”

Jaskier swallowed hard. He’d been rather proud of his stamina, but the Witchers left him in the dust. He thought about it again and decided to dismiss it, he was human and he’d be a bit behind, just like when he got too tired to walk behind Roach and Geralt was still trotting alongside the mare after helping the bard into the saddle. 

He focused back on Lambert just in time to see the youngest Witcher’s hips stutter and watched as Lambert shoved a knot, an actual knot, into Geralt. He’d been told that’s what Full Moon did, but knowing and seeing were very different things. Jaskier swallowed a whine of his own that was drowned out by Geralt’s shout and Lambert’s growl.

Lambert ground into Geralt, who was grinding back, and Jaskier saw him come, completely untouched. Jaskier’s breath caught, it was a gorgeous sight. Lambert flopped forward onto Geralt’s back, mouthing at his neck and stayed there for the few minutes it took for his knot to go down. Finally, Lambert pulled out, slick shining across Geralt’s ass. The White Wolf himself was still hard, a thin line of pre connecting his cock to the puddle beneath him.

Geralt whined a protest at being empty, but it cut off when Eskel, who had been lounging next to Jaskier getting his hair pet by Vesemir, rolled to his feet. He knelt behind Geralt and thrust in without preamble, sliding all the way to the hilt. Jaskier was at just the right angle to see Geralt’s eyes roll back in pleasure as Eskel bottomed out.

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned, rocking back and trying to take even more of Eskel. Eskel gripped his hips firmly to still him and began to thrust, a steady quick pace. There was none of the frantic energy that Lambert had shown, each thrust was a masterpiece of efficiency and accuracy. Geralt was reduced to moans and groans interspersed with whimpers within a matter of moments. 

Jaskier watched Eskel, hearing Lambert moving to his side. He saw Eskel’s knot start to form, the bulge of flesh just before the base of that long, thick cock making his mouth water and his cock leak. Eskel sniffed the air and grinned.

“Geralt always takes a knot so beautifully, way better than Lambert,” Eskel mused, hips moving faster as he thrust the half-formed knot in and out of Geralt’s hole. “Geralt takes it and begs for more. Lambert gets pushy.” He chuckled at Lambert’s light rumble of annoyance. “He won’t wait for the knot to go down, we have to pin him and make him stay still. Geralt lays there all open and inviting and you can’t…” Eskel thrust in and groaned, “help yourself.” 

Wide hips rocked into Geralt, who gasped and jerked, coming untouched again. The Witcher’s eyes were slightly glassy and rolled wildly as Eskel nipped at his shoulders. It took longer for Eskel’s knot to go down, but when he pulled out, Geralt stayed gaping slightly, slick and cum dripping out as the Witcher flexed the reddened hole.

Geralt whined, clawing at the bearskin rug under him, and swayed his hips. “Please, more.”

Vesemir chuckled from his seat and Geralt’s head whipped around. “Come on pup, come here.” 

Jaskier moaned to himself as Geralt crawled the short distance to Vesemir’s chair, then up into his lap. The chair was wide, more like a half couch or loveseat than a chair, and Jaskier quickly realized why as Geralt arranged himself, spread over Vesemir’s lap and cock and sunk down. There was plenty of room for the Witcher’s long legs to fold on either side of the older Wolf’s lap and Geralt wasted no time, starting to ride the thick shaft in his ass.

It was a glorious sight. Geralt’s ass and thighs flexed and bunched as he rose and fell, hands on the back of the chair next to Vesemir’s head. The long, lean line of Geralt’s back arched as the Witcher writhed his hips, hunting for the sweet spot inside himself.

Jaskier heard a slick sound and looked over to see Eskel stroking Lambert’s cock, the younger Witcher splayed across the other’s legs. Lambert caught his eye and smirked, “You’ve never seen him from this angle, huh?”

“No,” Jaskier shook his head and looked back at Geralt, focusing on the wide cock splitting the Witcher open. “I don’t think I’m gonna complain though. It’s the best view on the Continent.” Lambert huffed a laugh that faltered into a moan as Eskel did something, Jaskier couldn’t tear his eyes away from Geralt.

Sweat was glittering on the Witcher’s back, even though Geralt wasn’t wearing a warmth charm. The slick smack of his ass hitting Vesemir’s hips echoed around the room and made Jaskier twitch and leak pre. He couldn’t help but to give himself a few strokes as he watched Geralt move.

Vesemir had seemed content to let Geralt ride him, but now the older Witcher slid one hand to Geralt’s hip and the other to his white hair, gripping tight and pulling, arching the Wolf’s back and making him moan. The hand on Geralt’s hip gave him a soft smack, “Down pup, back to your furs.” 

Geralt pulled off, making a mewling sound as he did, and slid down to his knees before crawling back to the bearskin, a little away from his previous spot, dropping his chest low and presenting. Lambert took the opportunity to move closer, cock hanging enticingly close to Geralt’s mouth, just out of reach.

Vesemir stood, then moved behind Geralt and knelt, sheathing himself in one slow thrust. He began to move, almost glacially slow, dragging every inch of his thick cock out then pressing back in, all the way from root to tip. Geralt’s breath hitched and the Witcher tried to reach Lambert’s cock, but Vesemir was having none of it. One hand buried into the white hair and pulled Geralt’s head back, forcing him to arch his back.

“Don’t be shy, pup, let them hear you,” Vesemir commanded, his other hand reaching forward and flicking at a nipple. 

Geralt cried out, “Please, more, fuck me. Wanna come on your knot, please.” Geralt’s voice was half wrecked, and amazingly, a light pink flush was covering his cheeks. 

Jaskier stared in awe, shifting on his knees until he was next to Geralt and reached out to touch the barely-there color. “I didn’t know he could do that. I've never seen him blush or even get red before.”

Eskel chuckled and leaned over Jaskier’s shoulder, hard cock pressed to the bard’s soft backside. “You should see him at the end of this, he’ll be red as any human. It takes a lot of work to get his color up.” Jaskier ran his thumb over the delicate blush and Geralt tried to nip at his fingers before Vesemir tugged at his hair, checking the motion.

Vesemir kept moving glacially slow, speeding up only after Geralt began to beg, “Please, move… I need it… please.” The steady thwack of flesh on flesh was mesmerizing.

“Look at him, bard. Isn’t he pretty? Vesemir is gonna wring him dry.” Lambert said, teasing his cockhead at Geralt’s lips, pulling back every time the white-haired Witcher tried to suck him in. “Take a look at his cock.”

Jaskier did and was amazed at the sight. Geralt’s angry-looking red cock was drooling precome, forming a puddle under him. Vesemir thrust a few times and suddenly was pressed tight to Geralt, knot already formed and locking him in. Jaskier had missed it, but he didn’t miss Geralt’s reaction. The Witcher moaned, deep in his chest, and cum spilled from him again, making the puddle even bigger. 

“Oh, oh fuck… big... “ Geralt groaned, held up only by Vesemir’s grip on his chest and hair.

Vesemir leaned forward and nipped roughly at Geralt’s throat, raising a red mark that had Geralt sighing happily. Jaskier swallowed, throat suddenly dry with want. Geralt looked completely blissed out, eyes glazed and panting lightly. “Such a good boy. Taking my knot after so long,” Vesemir whispered, loud enough for even Jaskier to hear. 

Jaskier felt his cock twitch again and tried to distract himself before he came at words alone. “Eskel… Eskel said you didn’t need Full Moon. How come?” Jaskier flushed at his choice of words but was relieved when Vesemir only raised an eyebrow at him and let go of Geralt’s hair, letting the Wolf slump back down to his chest with a strangled moan as the move tugged at his hole.

“I’m older than them, by a good bit. Most Wolves, by the time they reach one hundred, have used Full Moon enough to knot that it becomes part of us. I can still use it… it makes my knot even bigger than it is now, but there are other micropotions I like to use since I don’t have to use Moon anymore.” 

Jaskier gulped. Vesemir didn’t even seem out of breath after fucking for so long, and it made him realize exactly what he was in for. He flushed, he was  _ more _ than okay with this. He couldn’t wait to have the four Witcher’s taking turns on him, but that would come later. Tonight was for Geralt.

Vesemir’s knot seemed to take forever to go down and Lambert, who had been getting antsy, was mollified when Geralt managed to catch the younger Witcher’s cock in his mouth. Finally, Vesemir pulled out and a rush of cum followed the movement, coating Geralt’s balls and thighs

Geralt’s hole was gaping open and Jaskier found himself drawn to it, sliding a finger in and feeling the soft walls and how they tried, and failed, to clench down on the slim digit. He moaned and without thinking, shifted close and slid his cock in. Geralt was loose, wet and warm and Jaskier, who was already riding the edge of orgasm due to watching all of the Witcher’s having their way with Geralt, came with a rush after barely half a dozen thrusts. 

Eskel was there, gently pulling him back when he collapsed over Geralt’s back. “Got you all wound up didn’t we?” At Jaskier’s weary nod, he pulled the bard out of Geralt and arranged him next to his lover. “Catch your breath, he’s likely to be greedy tonight.” Eskel then took the opportunity to hilt himself into Geralt again, making the other Witcher choke briefly on Lambert’s cock. 

The move earned him a dirty look from Lambert. “It was my turn!” 

“You wanted to fuck him on your knot, didn’t you? Then I need to go first.”

“Hmph, fine.”

Eskel began to move, and Lambert with him, rocking Geralt back and forth between them. Jaskier could hear his gasping desperate breaths every time a tug onto Eskel pulled Lambert out of his throat and the hollow sound every time Lambert pulled him back down to bury Geralt’s nose in his groin. 

Geralt’s hand found his own and Jaskier gripped it, feeling every movement of Lambert and Eskel as he caught his breath. Eventually, he felt less like a Jaskier-shaped blob of jelly and maneuvered himself under Geralt. He couldn’t have cared less about the fact that his hair landed in the puddle of cum under Geralt as he sucked the Witcher into his mouth. He heard the muffled scream as he did so, the sound blocked by Lambert’s cock. He smirked to himself, luxuriating in the perfect timing. Geralt’s cock was hot and swollen, despite how many times he’d come and Jaskier licked and sucked, reveling in the sounds Geralt was making… those he could anyway.

Vesemir, who was standing behind Eskel and tugging gently on the broad Witcher’s hair with one hand, the other toying with a nipple, chuckled. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

Eskel moaned and thrust into Geralt hard, driving Geralt’s cock deep into Jaskier’s mouth The bard sputtered slightly then swallowed around the thick shaft, letting Eskel’s movements fuck the long cock in and out of his mouth and the beginning of his throat. He was very glad he enjoyed sucking Geralt as much as he did and that he’d lost his gag reflex early into their relationship. 

There was a high-pitched sound from above him and he realized it was Geralt, right before he saw the Witcher’s balls draw up and Geralt began spilling into his mouth. Jaskier swallowed hurriedly, then sucked on the head of the finally softening cock. Geralt’s hips bucked but Eskel’s weight prevented him from moving too much. 

Lambert pulled himself free from Geralt’s mouth with a pop and looked at Jaskier under Geralt’s belly. “You’re gonna want to see this, once Eskel’s knot goes down.” Jaskier nodded and started to lick at Geralt’s balls, the soft, silky skin there damp with slick and cum. His nose bumped Eskel’s sack and the broad Witcher moaned and Jaskier slid out from under Geralt, licking his slick, cum smeared lips, and found himself pinned by Eskel’s golden eyes.

Eskel reached a hand out, “Can I kiss you, Jaskier?” 

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Jaskier gasped, letting Eskel’s broad palm grip the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Eskel’s tongue took no prisoners, licking up the mess from Jaskier’s lips then dipping in, wrestling with Jaskier’s own tongue and only pulling back when Jaskier needed to breathe.

“Oh yeah. This is going to be an amazing winter.”

There was a yelp from Geralt and Eskel growled lowly. Lambert had taken advantage of their distraction to begin to rub and tease at Geralt’s stretched hole, working a finger into the slick mess and tugging gently at the rim. “Hurry up, ‘Kel, I want in him.”

“Greedy,” Eskel grumbled but began to pull out. This time Jaskier was close enough to see Geralt’s hole widen and stretch around the half-hard knot and he shuddered in desire. He very much wanted that. Eskel finally pulled free and cum dripped freely from Geralt’s loose hole, covering his balls in a small torrent. It was red and puffy, swollen with use, but he didn’t have that much time to look before Lambert was hip checking Eskel out of the way and thrusting into Geralt.

Lambert’s knot was already half-hard from being deepthroated, and Jaskier watched as it grew bigger and bigger, but Lambert kept pulling out and thrusting back in. Jaskier was enraptured at the sight of Geralt’s hole being forced open again and again, and he dimly heard his lover keening and sobbing for more. All he could do was watch Lambert fuck his hardening knot in and out of Geralt’s loose hole. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking loose. You could probably take your bard’s fist if you wanted.” Lambert groaned, fucking in to the root and pulling out until just the very tip of his cock was inside. 

Geralt moaned and pressed back demandingly, and Lambert reached down between the other Witcher’s legs and gripped the slowly hardening cock. Geralt shouted and reared up, only to be caught by Lambert’s other arm clamping around his chest. “Fuck, Lambert, fuck, knot me, please.”

“As you wish.” Lambert snarled, thrusting in hard and biting down on Geralt’s neck. Geralt whined and shook as Lambert rolled his hips, grinding the hard knot into him before the younger Witcher eased him back down onto his front. There were teeth marks in Geralt’s neck, but no blood, which surprised Jaskier, though he could see the beginnings of what would be a spectacular bruise that would probably last a day if his experiences with Geralt’s bruising held up.

Lambert didn’t even wait for his knot to go down, pulling it out with only a little effort, to Geralt’s clear displeasure. “You want another round, bard?”

Jaskier took stock of himself and shook his head, “Not tonight.”

“Hot springs. It’s been two years since Geralt took a knot and that’s plenty until he’s gotten used to it again.” Vesemir said, standing up and moving to help Geralt to his feet, but not before putting in the tailed plug so he didn’t drip everywhere. Geralt whined, but Vesemir just tucked him under one arm and began to lead the cum-drunk Witcher towards the door that led to the springs.

Lambert rolled to his feet. “Two crowns says Geralt hops on his cock in the springs.”

“Fool’s bet. He’ll be on it soon as he’s clean. He only got Vesemir’s knot once tonight.” Eskel rumbled, climbing to his feet and stretching, putting his long strong frame on display. Jaskier couldn’t resist looking and Eskel smirked at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to explore all you’ll want.” He held a hand down to the bard and Jaskier took it, being hauled to his feet and against a warm broad chest. 

Jaskier went to take a step and wobbled, then squeaked as Eskel picked him up in a bridal carry and started towards the hot springs. He relaxed against the broad chest and let the Witcher carry him through the door. 

He drifted in and out as they bathed, Eskel’s broad hands helping him wash, still exhausted from the trip up the mountain, plus a day full of hard work. He didn’t even recall being put to bed, only snuggling into the warm furs and Geralt’s even warmer form.

As he drifted off, he chuckled. Lambert had indeed won that little bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I know that it's now Thursday in some places. But I hope this chapter makes up for being late. If you like this work, feel free to tell us what you liked in the comments, and make sure to subscribe to get the latest chapter updates!  
> Thanks for sticking with us through this story! Comments are the fuel that keeps us going. 
> 
> December is hard for everyone, and due to a medical reason (minor-not covid!!) we won't be updating next week. Sorry about that, but healthy bodies come first!


	7. Potions, Potions and More Potions… (and an explosion or two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is introduced to the effects of Wolf, Thunderbolt, Oriole, and Swallow. Lambert has fun with bombs, and Jaskier learns a new skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Locktea](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/locktea) for being our beta for this monstrosity. We really appreciate it.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Large Cock, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Hand Jobs, Cum Eating, and Lambert's use of bombs

The rest of the week passed oddly, both too fast and too slow, all at once. The daylight hours seemed to be gone in the blink of an eye, as chores consumed their time and energy, but the nights, oh the nights, they passed slowly. Like honey over bread, and just as delicious. 

Every morning, from just after dawn until just before dusk, the younger Witchers worked outside, repairing the walls, the embankments, the outbuildings, as much as they could with only three sets of hands. The biggest holes, the ones from the siege, had been repaired in the first decade after the attack. The rest of the damage had come from storms, both rain and snow, and simply time.

Jaskier got to see how the Witchers dealt with the remaining damage the very next day. At breakfast, Lambert was given the go-ahead to collapse the top of one of the farthest towers, which was leaning dangerously. Time and the siege had combined to make the tower - once a monument to human and elven engineering - unsafe to be around. The final straw had been a chunk of rampart shattering on the courtyard during training.

“I’ve already cleared it out, anything important or useful is stored away. I don’t want you to just blow it up, try to salvage the stones as much as you can. The more you salvage, the less you have to cut next autumn.” Vesemir said, spooning up more porridge into his bowl. Lambert pouted at the words but nodded. 

Geralt and Eskel pulled Jaskier out of Vesemir’s clutches in the kitchen just before lunch to watch as Lambert scrambled all over the unstable tower, laying strange-looking bombs in the cracks and crevices. Lambert even dug mortar out from between some stones to place the little cone-shaped bombs. The youngest Witcher tied a finely woven cord soaked in oil to each one, carefully measuring the lines out and trailing them behind him as he stood on one of the recently repaired walls. 

He’d already told Jaskier to stuff little balls of wool and beeswax in his ears and to cover them when he lit the cords. Eskel and Geralt had just laughed and grabbed their own little ear-blockers. “You’ve heard how loud my bombs can be, Jask. He’s got a good dozen up there,” Geralt said, and Jaskier took the proffered wool bits. 

Lambert finished measuring his cords and waved at them, the signal to cover their ears. Jaskier did so, then watched as Lambert cast Igni at the oil-drenched cords. Fire raced up the thin lines as Lambert sprinted away, across the wall and leapt down to where they stood. 

There was a deafening explosion and the already crumbling top of the tower collapsed in on itself, the leaning part falling inward first, followed by the other, leaving a pile of rubble. “IT WORKED!” Lambert yelled, “FUCK YES!” 

As soon as the dust began to settle, Lambert was scrambling back up onto the wall and back to the ruined tower, checking it over. Jaskier pulled the wool out of his ears as Geralt and Eskel laughed and did the same. “What’s he doing now?” Jaskier said, watching Lambert inspect the lower part of the tower.    
  
“Structural integrity check, to see if he needs to bring down more of the tower to make it stable again. He probably won’t, he’s actually pretty good at directing his bombs… most of the time.” Eskel answered, picking a bit of beeswax free from his ear. “He uses them heavily when he’s hunting since he doesn’t quite have the brute force Geralt does or the magic I do. It’s an effective strategy, but it does mean winters can get noisy when he’s experimenting.”

“Remember when he was testing that new Dragon’s Dream mix? It went off and so did his eyebrows. It took a month for them to grow back!” Geralt laughed and Eskel chuckled at the memory. 

Jaskier swallowed nervously and Eskel clapped a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, his testing building is  _ outside _ the walls for that exact reason. It wasn’t the first time he’s half-blown himself up, and it won’t be the last.” 

Lunch was interesting that day, as Lambert, already hopped up on the adrenaline from his explosive success, pulled the little wooden tail out of his bread roll. He’d crowed about it for hours afterward, at least until Geralt and Eskel dunked him into the horse’s water trough. 

Jaskier again got to choose which potion, and he chose Wolf. He got the distinct pleasure of watching Lambert’s face as the youngest Wolf was wrung dry, coming over and over. The other Witchers took the chosen potion, while Lambert not only downed the little bottle but applied it internally, leaving him with an oversensitive prostate on top of his sensitive cock.

The sight of Lambert writhing on cock after cock, being filled over and over, until he finally tapped out would have been enough to fuel his fantasies for months if not years. Not to mention watching Geralt lose his composure more quickly than he’d ever seen before. Lambert’s gaping hole was leaking cum, red and puffy from the constant use and Jaskier was more than alright simply sitting and watching Lambert get wrecked. The youngest Witcher, however, clearly had other ideas.

Jaskier yelped as Lambert clambered on top of him on the wide chair he’d chosen to watch from and, without preamble, sunk down on the bard’s hard cock. Jaskier froze, unsure what to do and Lambert huffed at him, grabbing his hands and placing them on his hips. “Fuck me, bard. Do a good job, and I’ll let you do it again.”   
  
Jaskier complied, thrusting up into the wet, warm, loose hole. He thrust slowly, searching, and grinned when Lambert shouted. “There we are. You want me to fuck you? Hold on.” Jaskier gripped Lambert’s hips and put as much force as he could behind his thrusts, aiming for that spot that had Lambert shouting and writhing. 

Jaskier hung on by the skin of his teeth until he felt Lambert shudder and heard the Witcher curse—in Nilfgaardian by the sound of it—as he came, drenching Jaskier’s chest. The walls of his hole clamped down and Jaskier thrust sharply, burying himself into Lambert and adding yet another layer of cum inside him. 

Lambert slumped into Jaskier, burying his nose in the bard’s neck, panting, “You… you’ll do.”

Jaskier rested a hand on Lambert’s back and enjoyed the purring of the youngest Witcher, who refused to move.

**

The next night at dinner, Geralt drew the tail again, but after a moment’s hesitation, placed it into the center of the table. He’d taken a nasty fall off the wall that morning and was still limping slightly, to Lambert’s amusement, and Jaskier’s reiteration to himself that he was staying firmly with both feet on the ground. Geralt had actually gone into the kettle to soak his sore muscles. It was no surprise he’d passed tonight.

Lambert reached for it but Eskel was faster, snatching up the little wooden tail and hooking it onto his medallion chain. “Hey!” Lambert growled, scrabbling at the pendant. “I was there first!”

“Too slow, mine now.” Eskel teased, pulling a flailing Lambert into his lap and nipping at the younger Wolf’s neck. “If you’re good, I’ll let you help me in the springs, otherwise it’ll be Geralt, and you’ll go last.”

Lambert subsided with a little grumble and refused to leave Eskel’s lap for the remainder of the meal, to Eskel’s barely hidden amusement. 

Vesemir shooed them away from the table once everyone was done, and Eskel and Lambert disappeared down into the hot springs. Geralt and Jaskier headed to the main area and the chest of potions. Vesemir refused to let the younger Witchers help clean the kitchen, something about pups not watching their feet, and the rule carried over to Jaskier, at least for the dinner dishes.

Jaskier looked at the tiny colorful bottles and nudged the dark green bottle. “This is… Thunderbolt right? It makes you bigger?” He looked up to see Geralt nod. “How much?”

Surprisingly, Geralt wasn’t hesitant at all, a far cry from his usual behavior. “Like Vesemir said, it makes our cocks bigger. Some of us, it makes… longer, some thicker, some of us get both.” He smirked, and Jaskier flushed as he realized Geralt got both results. “You think Eskel is big now, you should see him on Thunderbolt. Lambert’s going to be even more bitchy that he didn’t get the tail.”

“Why is that?”

“Lambert loves when Eskel takes Thunderbolt. Not as much as when he gets to take Whale and gets someone to take Oriole and Swallow and gets on there, like he was when we arrived, but damn close.” 

Vesemir came out of the kitchen doorway and caught the little green bottle Geralt tossed him. “They not back up yet?” 

“Nah, Eskel is probably rewarding him for behaving.”

Vesemir looked at the bottle, then at Jaskier. “Pup’s gonna whine, but there will be other days, we have all winter.” He began to stroke himself, hardening quickly. “Come and watch this bard, put your hand here.” He took Jaskier’s hands, wrapping them both around the hard cock. 

Jaskier gulped at the feeling, he’d yet to really touch any of the other Witchers’ cocks. Vesemir’s cock was thick, blood-hot and the wide, flushed head stuck out just past his hands. “Watch,” Vesemir said, popping the cork and downing the tiny potion. It took a moment and then Jaskier felt it. Vesemir’s cock was growing, thickening just a bit, and the head pushing farther out, until it would take another hand to cover the end. 

Jaskier swallowed hard, feeling the smooth slide of skin under his hands as he mindlessly stroked the thick cock. “Melitele's tits. That’s… Gods…” He looks at Geralt, hunger blazing in his eyes. “What we could have done with this…”

Vesemir chuckles and pries Jaskier’s hands off, a harder feat than he’d imagined it would be. The little bard didn’t want to let go, but he wanted the young man to see Geralt’s cock on Thunderbolt. “Go watch Geralt.” He led the bard closer and Jaskier hit his knees in front of Geralt, without any prompting, to Geralt’s surprise.

Jaskier stroked Geralt’s half-hard cock, bringing it to full mast, and measured it with his hands. “Take it. Geralt, let me see.” Geralt downed the potion and watched the rapturous look on his lover’s face as his cock thickened and grew. He was so thick Jaskier’s fingers barely touched and it was most definitely longer, at least half a hand span.

He was so enthralled by the sight and feel of Geralt’s hot, silky cock that he completely missed Eskel and Lambert returning. He didn’t miss Lambert’s heartfelt, if amused, cursing as he saw he’d been handed Thunderbolt. 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of massive cocks and the beautiful, deliriously hot sight of Eskel bouncing on Geralt’s cock, his pretty hole stretched wide around the increased girth. Between that, Lambert in his mouth, and his gloriously thick thighs working to chase his pleasure, Jaskier couldn’t focus, coming practically the moment Eskel pushed Lambert aside and took Jaskier into his mouth, lips pressed to the bard’s hips. 

Vesemir let Jaskier play, gently, with his cock, until Eskel had a hole available, but the bard wasn’t allowed to make him come, to the human’s minor frustration. Vesemir didn’t even allow him to use his mouth, just his hands. By the time Geralt and Jaskier headed to their room, Eskel was comfortably ensconced on Vesemir’s lap, legs spread wide and thoroughly speared on the older Wolf’s cock. Lambert had long since passed out in front of the fire, a fur tossed over him as he snored. 

It was a sight Jaskier was definitely saving to revisit, in his dreams, and in reality. He  _ wanted  _ that feeling of being stretched just a bit too much. He made a mental note for the next time he got the tail as he drifted off to sleep.

**

The next night turned out to be Jaskier’s favorite night so far, of the four nights he’d been there. Vesemir smirked as everyone tore open their loaves and a hush came over the table. It was like the quiet before a storm as Vesemir lifted his bread loaf and broke it open, pulling out the tail. 

“We’ll test two potions today, they’re best done together.” Lambert made a noise, almost a whimper, practically vibrating in his seat. He started to stand but was halted by Vesemir raising a hand. “Finish your food. The other three potions will wait a few days since they work well together. No need to wash up today.”

Vesemir watched as Lambert started shoveling his food into his face. “Geralt’s room today, he has the biggest bed.”

Lambert bolted the rest of his food, but skipped seconds and jumped up, racing up the stairs. Geralt snorted in amusement and followed at a more sedate pace. Eskel was next and Vesemir chuckled. Jaskier raised an eyebrow, “What are the last two potions?” The Witcher’s seemed to know something he didn’t.

  
“Oriole and Swallow, one of Lambert’s favorite combinations. Like you saw on the first day you arrived. But, he doesn’t get to have first taste this time, you do.”

Vesemir and Jaskier finished eating at the same time and Jaskier helped stack the dishes, carrying them into the kitchen. Vesemir waved him away, “I’ll wash the dishes, you go up and make sure the pups are playing nicely.” Jaskier looked at the few dishes left, mostly the plates and the large pot, and nodded, heading up the stairs. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do if they  _ weren’t _ playing nicely. At least Vesemir wouldn’t be far behind.

Jaskier undid the laces of his breeches as he went up the stairs, just to get a headstart on what was sure to be an interesting night. He heard muffled grunts and groans coming from the room he shared with Geralt and looked through the cracked open door. The sight had his cock hardening fast enough to make him dizzy.

Eskel had Lambert pinned against his chest, arms tangled with the younger Wolf’s and locking him in place for Geralt. Geralt was on his knees on the fur rug, giving the most enthusiastic and sloppiest blowjob Jaskier had ever seen. Lambert, whose leggings were nowhere in sight, was writhing and moaning, hips trying to twitch and thrust, but Geralt had a grip on them, holding him still. Geralt swallowed Lambert down, nose buried in dark curly hair before pulling back and looking at the door. “Come on in, Jaskier. We’re just getting him ready for you.”

Geralt stood and dusted off his opened breeches, and Jaskier thought briefly about asking why Eskel and Geralt still had them on before dismissing it. “What do you mean ‘getting him ready’? Spit is not lube, Geralt!”

Eskel chuckled and dodged a vicious foot stomp from his captive, “We’ve all taken Oriole and Swallow.” Jaskier looked at the seething Witcher in Eskel’s grip and opened his mouth to ask if Lambert was willingly participating in tonight when Eskel noticed the look and cut him off. “Oh, don’t mind him, he just wants to be in your spot right now. Oriole and Swallow are his favorites after all. If we’re right, you get to suck all of us off and taste our cum. Oriole makes us all taste different, but you get to figure out the rest for yourself.”

Lambert thrashed with a growl and Eskel nipped his neck sharply. “Behave, Lamb, or I won’t tell him to come suck your cock.” The younger Witcher groaned into the bite and unconsciously rocked his hips, cock leaking onto the floor. Jaskier took the opportunity to shed his breeches and boots and knelt in front of the still struggling Witcher. 

He reached out and stroked the hard cock in front of his face and Lambert let out a small groan, rocking into the touch and ceasing his struggles to free himself from Eskel’s grip. Jaskier leaned forward, running his hands over the soft, creamy thighs, and licked at the wide head, dragging a moan out of Lambert before engulfing the cockhead in his mouth and sucking lightly. He flicked his eyes up to meet Lambert’s and winked, then shoved himself as far down as he dared.

Eskel grunted as he was suddenly holding most of Lambert’s weight as the Wolf’s knees nearly gave out. Jaskier managed just over half of Lambert’s cock and wrapped his hands around the rest. He never deepthroated, having been told it would ruin his voice permanently. He wanted to, desperately, but his voice was his life. As it was, the fat head was in the clutch of the top of his throat and he swallowed around it.

Lambert whined and thrust his hips, but Jaskier moved with him, not letting the Wolf fuck his face. He began to move, slow at first, and heard Geralt rumble, “Don’t tease him, lark.” Jaskier chuckled around the cock in his mouth, making Lambert gasp, before again wrapping his hands around what didn’t fit in his mouth, which was quite a bit. He began to move faster, flicking his tongue under the foreskin and teasing the frenulum and glans. It was fast and messy, as saliva coated his chin and hands, but Lambert was definitely enjoying it.

“Fuck, bard. Yeah, just like… FUCK. Gonna... come in that... pretty mouth of yours.” It only took a few more bobs of his head before Lambert roared and bucked in Eskel’s grip, spilling down Jaskier’s throat. 

Jaskier swallowed hurriedly then pulled back a bit, letting the taste of the cum spread across his tongue in a burst of sweet flavor. It reminded him of the sweet and slightly spicy cookies they bought whenever he and Geralt passed through Rinde. He expected that to be it, but Lambert just kept coming. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier moaned, pulling back when he couldn’t swallow fast enough to keep up with the amount. He kept stroking the young Wolf through his orgasm as the rest landed across his face and chest, with a few jets landing in his still open mouth. Jaskier looked Lambert in the eye as he rolled the sweet, slightly spicy cum over his tongue before swallowing. 

Lambert hung in Eskel’s grip, but smirked down at Jaskier, far too smug for a man who’d just been coming five seconds ago and whose legs were jelly, “You look good covered in cum.”

Jaskier looked at Eskel and Geralt, in what was clearly half-faked shock at the compliment. “Well, fuck… I can only imagine how pretty I’m going to be by the end of the night, then.” He gave Lambert a saucy wink and licked his lips free of a drop of cum. Lambert let out a huff of laughter, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders as Eskel freed his arms. Eskel did so, taking a step back to give him room so as to not tread on Jaskier.

“So, what does he taste like?” Geralt asked, a grin spreading across his face and showing off the barest hint of sharp white teeth.

Jaskier ran a finger through the cum on his face and sucked the finger clean, “Those spicy sugar cookies in Rinde, the ones made with that bark from Zerrikania… Cinnamon? Yeah, those,” He licks his lips again. 

Geralt chuckled, somewhere over to his right, “Sounds about right. That’s one of the reasons I always get a bagful. Do you want to taste me or Eskel next?” 

_ Decisions, decisions. _ Jaskier eyed the two other Wolves as Lambert slumped into one of Geralt’s chairs. Both had cocks standing at attention and each was framed by a large, broad hand. The opened breeches only added to the allure and he smirked, reaching out and snagging Eskel by the cloth and tugging him forward.

“Hello,” Jaskier said with a smile, as Eskel’s hand left his cock and swept a thumb through a string of Lambert’s cum on his cheek. The Witcher pushed his thumb into Jaskier’s mouth and Jaskier sucked eagerly at the digit, swirling his tongue around and hollowing his cheeks. Even slightly cooled, Lambert’s sweetly spiced cum was good.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Eskel said, pulling his thumb free with a pop. He ran his hand through Jaskier’s hair and gave a light tug. Jaskier obeyed the pull and opened his mouth as the tip of Eskel’s cock slid against his lower lip. He flicked his tongue out and pulled the hot shaft into his mouth, eyes closing in concentration and bliss at the stretch of his jaw. Eskel was  _ thick _ . “Good boy.”

Jaskier moaned at the praise and pressed deeper, pushing the thick cock into the clutch at the top of his throat, even as his hands worked at the man’s breeches, trying to pull them down. He heard Geralt chuckle and then pale hands joined his, tugging Eskel’s clothing down and the big Witcher obligingly lifted first one foot, then the other as Geralt freed him. 

The movement made Eskel rock forward, more than Jaskier anticipated and he choked, pulling back quickly to cough and gasp for breath. “Easy, little bird, no need to rush. We have all night,” Eskel soothed, running a hand gently through Jaskier’s hair.

“Sorry,” Jaskier said, getting his throat back under control, and running his hands up Eskel’s legs. Like Lambert, there were no scars on the soft inner thighs, and he vowed to himself to leave at least a few little sucking bruises there before spring. He took the wide, flushed head back in, and set to work, his hands wrapping around what didn’t fit into his mouth - which was a great deal of it - and starting to learn what Eskel liked. 

The big Witcher’s breath hitched when Jaskier’s tongue flicked along the glans, and he let out the most delicious moan when Jaskier’s teeth just barely scraped along what little of the shaft they could. 

Above him, he could just barely see pale hands playing with Eskel’s nipples, as Geralt toyed with them. Jaskier ran his hands up and down, letting his saliva slick the way, and a soft rumble got his attention. “Play with his balls, he loves that.” He glanced up to see Geralt’s wide-blown eyes watching him. Jaskier winked in return and slid one hand down, sliding against the large, egg-shaped mounds hidden inside the bronzed sack. He vaguely wondered if Eskel sunbathed nude to be the same shade of bronze all over.

Eskel let out a sound more akin to a squeak than a moan, and the thick flesh in Jaskier’s mouth twitched. His mouth watered and he desperately wanted more. A little more wouldn’t hurt his voice, would it? He pressed a bit closer, and took another inch into the top of his throat, swallowing hard to fight his gag reflex. 

It felt amazing, and his eyes rolled shut as Eskel moaned above him. “There you go, Jaskier. Gods, that’s good.” Jaskier rolled the balls in his hand, gentle so as not to hurt, and felt Eskel stiffen and gasp. “Oh, oh fuck. Gonna…” Jaskier moaned, letting the vibrations tip Eskel over and opened his eyes to watch the big Witcher’s face as he came.

Eskel’s eyes were half-closed, mouth parted, and face soft and open. This time he was more prepared for the amount of cum and started swallowing immediately as soon as he felt the first spurt of cum hit his tongue. Eskel was sweeter than Lambert, tasting like the buttery, golden candies he used to steal from the cupboard when the cooks weren’t looking back when he was small. Even prepared, he still couldn’t keep up with the sheer volume of cum and pulled back when the spend filled his mouth to the brim and started to leak down his chin. 

Like Lambert, he kept stroking Eskel through his orgasm, swallowing his mouthful as more landed on his chest and face. He was going to be a right mess after tonight. Good. He tried to catch a few more spurts of the sweet cum, but the last few weak spurts only landed on his chest.

Jaskier hummed happily as he swiped a finger through the mess on his slightly furry chest and licked it clean. “Toffee, or maybe butterscotch?” He looked up at Eskel through long eyelashes. “I used to steal them from the kitchens as a kid,” He looked over at Geralt, “and  _ someone _ keeps a stash in his kit.” Geralt simply shrugged with a smirk, not denying it.   
  
Eskel shuddered all over and nodded. “Yeah, that's what Geralt said.” He stumbled over to another chair, on the other side of the rug and slumped into it, breathing hard still. Jaskier felt mighty pleased with himself, to reduce such a big man to such a state. 

Jaskier shifted on his knees, feeling a bit sore and Geralt reached down, hauling him to his feet and guiding him over to the bed. The White Wolf smirked and flung himself down on the wide mattress, and spread his legs wide. “My turn.” He tucked his hands behind his head, looking all the world like a lazy noble about to be served.

Jaskier laughed, playful Geralt was a rarity on the Path, but here, in his home, this side clearly made far more appearances. At some point, Geralt had rid himself of his trousers and his pale skin was flushed in a few places. His cock was a ruddy red, and the tips of his ears were pink. Jaskier crawled onto the bed and slunk up the mattress, watching the hard cock twitch in anticipation.

Jaskier got himself comfortable in the vee of Geralt’s legs, kneeling much more comfortably on the mattress. The furs were thick, but he wasn’t used to them yet. He wrapped his hands around Geralt’s familiar hot cock, “Miss me?” He teased, smirking at Geralt.

“Hmm, a bit, but not as much as I’ve enjoyed seeing you suck their cocks,” Geralt replied, reaching down and swiping a stripe of cum from Jaskier’s forehead and sucking it clean. The taste of butterscotch bloomed on his tongue and he smiled, “I think Lambert was the only one who wasn’t watching you.”

Jaskier made a curious noise and looked to the chair he’d seen Lambert melt into, and found it occupied by Vesemir, who had Lambert kneeling between his legs. From his angle on the bed, he couldn’t see what the youngest Witcher was doing, but it didn’t take a Master of the Seven Liberal Arts to figure it out. 

“How long has he…?” Jaskier trailed off, looking at how Vesemir had one hand buried in Lambert’s hair and the other apparently stroking the young Wolf’s cheek if he guessed right.

“Heh, pretty much since you snagged Eskel,” Geralt said, “He’s not allowed to suck or make Vesemir come, just keep him warm until you’re done with us.” Vesemir looked up, caught Jaskier’s eye, and winked, shifting one leg to wrap around Lambert’s back and pull him closer.

Jaskier nodded and turned back to Geralt, whose thick cock was resting on his firm belly. Jaskier worked his jaw, a little sore, but no more than usual when he sucked off Geralt. Both Lambert and Eskel had been relatively quick off the mark. He wasn’t sure if they’d taken Wolf, or if the newness of his mouth had them eager to come. He pushed away the discomfort and leaned down to lap at the head of Geralt’s cock.

With this Witcher, at least, he knew all the little special spots that would have his White Wolf writhing for him. Jaskier slid his hand down Geralt’s cock, pulling back the foreskin and running his tongue around the ridge. He let his mouth water, spit and precum slicking the slide of Jaskier’s hand. Apparently, they  _ all _ liked slightly sloppy blowjobs.

Jaskier shifted a bit closer and took the large cock into his mouth, carefully covering his teeth and sliding down slowly, then pulling back and sucking hard to hollow his cheeks. Geralt had returned his hand to behind his head, but his eyes were locked on Jaskier.

Jaskier wrapped one hand around Geralt and slid his fingers through the slick created by his saliva and Geralt’s copious amount of precum, then slid those fingers down past the softly furred balls and down to Geralt’s hole. It wasn’t proper salve or slick, but it would do for now. He continued to suck, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue across the slit and making Geralt’s stomach jump with a sharp inhale.

  
Jaskier slid one finger in slowly, already knowing the right angle, and pressed against Geralt’s prostate, then pulled off and gave his lover a devious grin. Geralt opened his mouth to speak but it was cut off with a high-pitched moan as Jaskier pressed his thumb into that spot behind Geralt’s balls, pressing on both sides of the Witcher’s prostate. Jaskier engulfed Geralt again, taking him as deep as he dared, and pushing down the impulse to take him all the way. 

He massaged Geralt’s prostate, sliding a second finger in for a better grip, and soon, he had Geralt writhing on the bed, one hand gripping the headboard, and the other in the sheets. Geralt was polite enough to keep his hands free of Jaskier’s head at moments like this, ever since the first time he’d gripped too tight and thrust up, making the bard panic. Every move was noisy, his hand on Geralt’s cock making slick, wet noises that only made Geralt want more.

Jaskier chuckled around the cock in his mouth and pressed just slightly with his thumbnail. Geralt was already worked up from watching Jaskier with his brothers, and Jaskier’s talented, trained fingers had him coming hard, practically bowing up off the bed with a low, rumbling moan. 

Jaskier was well prepared this time and swallowed quickly, then pulled back and let Geralt come across his own stomach, the spend pooling in the muscled ridges of the Witcher’s abdomen. Jaskier stroked him through it, rubbing briskly at the pinned prostate until Geralt whimpered and he eased up. It was only then that he lowered his head and began to lick up the cum for a taste. 

Where Eskel had been quite sweet, and Lambert spicy, Geralt’s flavor was much more subtle. Sweet, but not overpoweringly so. He licked it up, relishing in the taste and then he pinned it down. Geralt tasted like Honeycakes, just like the ones the Witcher favored from a little bakery near Lettenhove. 

He finished licking up the cum, not wanting to waste it, since it wasn’t decorating his skin, and looked up. “Honeycakes, why am I not surprised? They’re your favorite.”   
  
“Yeah,” Geralt rumbled, having been watching every movement of Jaskier’s skillful tongue. “How are you feeling?”   
  
“Full, but good.”

“Got a little more room in you? Vesemir is waiting for you.”

  
  
Jaskier grinned and licked his lips. “I’m sure I can find some.” He looked over at the oldest Wolf who smiled back and nudged at Lambert’s head.

A deep, angry growl echoed around the room as Lambert’s hands came up from where they’d been resting in his lap and wrapped around Vesemir’s legs and his back hunched as he pressed himself closer to Vesemir. Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the possessive sound and he instinctively pressed back against Geralt.

Vesemir’s hand, which had been stroking Lambert’s hair, gripped harshly as the older Witcher forcibly pulled Lambert up and off his cock. Jaskier winced at the sight, seeing how harsh the pull was as Lambert’s head snapped up so he was forced to look Vesemir in the eyes. A whine replaced the growl and Vesemir snarled, teeth flashing, making both Lambert and Jaskier flinch. “Lambert.” He stared hard at the young Witcher who whimpered and carefully let go of Vesemir’s legs, bringing his hands back to his sides. “Go to Eskel. Now. I’ll deal with you later.”

  
  


With a sharp shake, he released Lambert’s hair and the young Witcher ducked his head, crawling over to Eskel, the silver bracelet on his wrist flashing brightly in the firelight. Jaskier was sure if Lambert had an actual tail, it would have been tucked between his legs. 

Eskel, still slouched in the chair he’d claimed, spread his knees and guided Lambert between them, the Wolf’s back pressed against the chair. Eskel pressed Lambert’s head to his thigh and wound his fingers in the dark hair, to grip rather than pet.

Jaskier’s attention was drawn back to Vesemir when the oldest Witcher called his name, motioning him to approach. The snarl was gone from Vesemir’s lips and a smirk had replaced it. Geralt gave him an encouraging nudge and Jaskier slid off the bed, he padded over to Vesemir, unconsciously swaying his hips and his hard cock, which he honestly had nearly forgotten about in his efforts to taste all his Witchers.

He reached Vesemir’s side and squeaked in surprise as the Witcher pulled him into his lap, legs spread wide over thick thighs, cock pressed to his belly and nuzzling along his chest and jaw. “You smell good, bard, like us.” Vesemir ran his lips over Jaskier’s neck and the bard moaned when he felt Vesemir’s tongue lick at one of the smears of cum covering him. Vesemir chuckled and did it again, and again, pressing kisses to cum-decorated skin and lapping up the spend of his pups. What he didn’t lick up, he rubbed into Jaskier’s skin, soaking the bard in their scents.

It was almost meditative, and Jaskier hazily let Vesemir move him as he pleased, so long as he got more kisses pressed to his skin. Finally, Vesemir pulled away, and cupped Jaskier’s cheek, pulling him in and claiming his lips in a deep kiss. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, but a devouring one that had Jaskier’s attention snapping back into place as his cock filled painfully quickly from where it had partially softened. 

Vesemir pulled back and Jaskier blinked hazily. His mouth had been thoroughly plundered, and he could feel the older Wolf’s gaze on him. “You ready for one more?” Vesemir cupped his jaw, rubbing a stray bit of cum into the joint of his jaw, right where it was sore. Jaskier’s mouth watered as he looked down, past his own erection to see Vesemir’s, still slightly shiny and hard as a rock where it pressed against his stomach. Vesemir was thick, especially at the head and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it.

Vesemir rubbed his thumb over the sore muscle in his jaw, “You’re a little sore, aren’t you? That’s alright. We’ll get you trained up by the end of the winter. You’ll be able to take a cock just as well as any of the pups.” Behind them, all three younger Witchers moaned, remembering similar words being said to them when they were learning how to deepthroat.   
  
Jaskier assessed himself and turned his head, nipping at Vesemir’s wrist. “I wanna try.”

Vesemir chuckled, “Alright.” 

With that, Jaskier slid off the older Wolf’s lap, kneeling on the fur rug again, and looked at Vesemir’s hard cock. It was thick, nearly as thick as Eskel’s but the head was more so, nice and fat and his mouth watered, and Jaskier had to swallow hard. He could feel the thick veins and the pure heft of it made him decide. Fuck his jaw, he was gonna taste Vesemir properly. 

He stuck out his tongue and licked delicately over the slit, lapping up a drop of precum and making Vesemir twitch. He opened his mouth wide and, mindful of his teeth, took in the ruddy fat head. It filled his mouth and he moaned, letting his tongue roam as much as he could. He pulled off and looked at Vesemir. “Fuck, you’re thick. I can’t wait until I get to have this inside me… Gonna split me open.” He sucked Vesemir back in greedily.

Vesemir let out a low growling moan and Jaskier looked up at him, blue eyes shielded behind thick eyelashes. “You have quite a mouth on you, little bird.” One hand ran through Jaskier’s hair, gently undoing a tangle and making the bard shudder. There was a muffled grunt from behind him and he pulled back, turning his head as both Geralt and Vesemir snapped their eyes over to Eskel and Lambert. 

Eskel had shifted Lambert, thick legs set over Lambert’s shoulders, pinning his head in place between Eskel’s knees, and the big Witcher’s lower legs wrapped around Lambert’s ribs, forcing Lambert’s arms away from himself. Eskel had three thick fingers shoved into Lambert’s mouth, forcing the young Wolf’s mouth open despite how desperately he was trying to suck. A bright red mark on Eskel’s thigh showed the reason for the change in position. 

Eskel raised an eyebrow, “Just giving him a little help behaving.” Lambert tried to growl, but Eskel just moved his fingers, a slight flex, and the growl cut off. Fire flickered in yellow slitted eyes, but Lambert wasn’t struggling or giving any sign of distress, so Jaskier turned back to Vesemir.

Vesemir was looking down at him, a glint in his eye, “Don’t let those two distract you, little bird.” Jaskier nodded and wrapped his lips back around Vesemir’s cock, ignoring the stretch of his jaw. He explored the cock in his mouth, tonguing at the slit, the glans, and the sensitive frenulum as his hands stroked the rest of the thick shaft. 

He shuddered as he had a mental image of himself, throat bulging as he buried his nose in Vesemir’s stomach and moaned, pushing it away. The gray-haired Wolf ran a scarred but soft hand through his hair again, “Why don’t you try a bit more.”

Jaskier nodded, as much as he could, and started to bob his head, taking Vesemir just as deep as he had Geralt, nudging the clutch of his throat with the broad head. He swallowed hard against his impulse to gag and let go with one hand, running his fingers along the remarkably smooth skin of Vesemir’s thighs. Like the others, they were unmarked, possibly the softest area on a Witcher’s body.

Vesemir groaned softly, “That’s it…” The older Witcher gently tugged on Jaskier’s hair, not enough to force him down, but it made Jaskier look up. “How much can you take, pretty bard? Relax your throat, that’s it. There you go, you can take it.” Jaskier relaxed his throat, surprised to feel that he could comfortably take another inch. “Good. Relax your throat, breathe through your nose.”

Jaskier desperately wanted to but he pulled back and looked up at Vesemir with concern, ”I can’t. I can’t risk my voice. I want it, but…” He looked away, shame coloring his cheeks, unaware that the scent filled the air.

Vesemir cupped his chin, turning his head back to face him. “Oh, little bird, you won’t.” He runs a finger down the front of Jaskier’s neck. “Your throat splits into two directions, one to your lungs, and one to your stomach, otherwise you’d inhale cum instead of swallowing it. You’ve seen how far Lambert can take a cock, and his voice is fine. A little rough right after, but fine.” 

Jaskier looked up at the older Wolf, knowing Witcher’s didn’t lie, at least around each other. Geralt had told him that since their scent would give them away, and Geralt was nodding encouragingly when he glanced over his shoulder. He swallowed hard, then took Vesemir back into his mouth, going slow until he had taken as much as he had before. He stopped fighting his desire to fully engulf the cock in his mouth and pressed forward eagerly, too eagerly, as he got another inch down before he choked and gagged, having to pull back quickly to regain control. A hand rested on his head, keeping him from pulling off completely. “Easy, pup, easy. We’ve got all night, so just take it slow. There’s not a rush, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Just take it slow, little bird. Just a bit at a time. Swallow when you need to.” Jaskier followed the commands of that smooth, confident voice, inching down Vesemir’s cock. He could feel it stretching deep in his throat and he instinctively adjusted his head so his throat was straighter. “Good. That’s it. Pull back and breathe, catch your breath, then do it again.”

Jaskier lost himself in the rhythm of it, taking Vesemir deeper, then pulling back to breathe, then returning and gaining a little more ground. He was surprised then, to feel his nose pressed into Vesemir’s stomach, the hairs tickling his nose and lips. He looked up, not moving his head, eyes feeling a bit damp from the stretch, and reveled in the approving look he got.

“Oh, fuck, good boy.” Scarred, sturdy hands pet Jaskier’s hair, running down the side of his throat, but didn’t press, and a thumb stroked his cheek. “Very good. Pull back, breathe, and take it all again.” 

  
  
Jaskier obeyed, feeling just slightly hazy, and wasn’t sure if it was the lack of air or something else, but right now, all he cared about was Vesemir’s cock in his throat. He repeated the directions, over and over, not even noticing the ache in his jaw. Deepthroating Vesemir seemed to get easier and easier, and while Jaskier still had to occasionally push his gag reflex down, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been when he’d started. Now, holding his breath was the hardest part.

He took Vesemir down fully, nose buried in the coarse hairs around his cock, and stayed there, lost in the feeling of a thick cock finally down his throat. He swallowed around the full length and heard Vesemir groan out a low curse. He felt a gentle tug on his hair and suddenly felt sympathy for Lambert because he did  _ not _ want to move, even though he was quickly running out of breath. He pushed down, burying his nose firmly into Vesemir’s stomach.

There was a chuckle above him. “Oh, stubborn one, aren’t you? That’s enough for your first time, lad. Come on, up you go.” Jaskier was gently pulled back and away, not able to resist a Witcher’s strength, but sucked furiously at the head, which stayed in his mouth. “I don’t want to risk knotting your mouth, little bird, you aren’t ready for that.” 

Jaskier looked up at the older Witcher and flicked his tongue deliberately over the slit and Vesemir’s eyes blew just a bit darker. “Stay just like that, Jaskier, and take what I give you.” Jaskier hummed in response, more than ready to taste his cum.

Vesemir wrapped his hand around his spit-slicked cock and began to stroke, and he was more worked up than he dared to let on. He’d enjoyed teaching his pups to deepthroat, and thought he’d never have the chance to teach another, but here the bard was, eager to learn and quick to catch on. He felt his knot starting to swell and wrapped his other hand around it, squeezing firmly. 

“Fuck.” Vesemir felt his knot expand and squeezed, moaning as he came. 

Jaskier felt the first spurts and swallowed quickly, having learned with the others, and shook as the flavor of apple cider rolled over his tongue. Geralt’s favorite drink, other than Everluce. He pulled back, letting the cum hit his face and chest, marking him just as the other Wolves had, and he felt something inside him settle. This, more than anything, marked him as theirs.

He was Geralt’s. He was Eskel’s. He was Lambert’s. He was Vesemir’s. They were his, as much as he was theirs. His hand came up and he began to unconsciously rub the cum into his skin, spreading the scent.

Vesemir chuckled, “Quick little bird, you learn fast.” Jaskier gave a slow, lazy smile up at him in response. 

A low whine had him looking over at Lambert, who was straining against Eskel’s legs, not that he had much chance against those tree trunk thighs and calves. Eskel’s hands were tangled in Lambert’s hair, keeping him still. 

Jaskier’s attention was brought back to Vesemir when the Witcher placed a single finger under his chin and guided his gaze back. “Eyes on me, little bird. Why don’t you come up here so I can take care of you?” Vesemir’s other hand patted his thigh and Jaskier didn’t need to be told twice, climbing neatly into Vesemir’s lap. “Turn around. Show off for them,” 

Jaskier turned, grateful for the strong hands that kept him steady and firmly in Vesemir’s lap. He hooked his legs over Vesemir’s legs and then moaned as the Witcher spread his own, forcing Jaskier to spread wide and put his cock and balls on display, just as he had with Geralt that first night. His feet instinctively wrapped around strong calves, giving him stability.

He looked around the room and was greeted with the sight of three sets of lust-darkened golden eyes, the cat-like pupils were blown so wide that only a small ring of gold remained. Vesemir ran a hand down his chest and pulled him back against his own, then ran both hands up his arms, bringing Jaskier’s arms up and behind the Witcher’s neck. “Hold your wrists.” The voice was kind, but commanding. 

Jaskier nodded, his head comfortably cradled against Vesemir’s shoulder, and his body open to the golden gazes in the room, and Vesemir’s hands. Vesemir’s very  _ clever _ hands, he discovered, as scarred fingers ran down his arms to his chest. One hand sliding down his belly to tease just above his cock, as the other stayed at his chest, toying with a nipple. 

“Vese.. mir…” He moaned, nearly breathless from the combination of deepthroating and the pure electrical pleasure the simple touches were causing. He hadn’t touched himself since he’d come into the room, too focused on all the lovely pricks and their delicious cum. The scarred hand wrapped around his hot cock, not moving and Jaskier moaned, finally realizing just how hard he was, and how desperate he was to come. 

He arched into the touch and got a twist of the hand around his cock, and a flick over his nipple for his trouble. He considered that a win. Vesemir toyed with his cock, running sword-callused fingers up and down, tracing the glans of his cock and playing with the slit. Every rasp of those thick fingers had heat surging through his veins. He gripped his wrists harder and tried to relax, to let Vesemir play as he wished. That earned him a gentle nibble along his neck and jaw in reward.

Vesemir was slow and steady, ignoring his whining, desperate pleas as he was stroked and caressed. Jaskier was so focused on Vesemir’s hands, and not letting go of his own, that he was startled to hear Vesemir speak. “Lambert, come here.”

Jaskier lifted his head a bit, blearily watching Eskel release the desperate-looking Lambert, who hurriedly crawled the short distance between the chairs and kneeled between Vesemir’s spread legs, with Jaskier’s spread even wider around them. The youngest Witcher was flushed, eyes blown and mouth parted as he looked up at Vesemir. “Learned your lesson?”

Lambert swallowed hard, and nodded, “Yes, Alpha.”

  
  
“And what was your lesson?”

  
  
“Don’t be greedy.”

“Good.” One finger swept through the leaking pre-cum on Jaskier’s cock and held it out. Lambert leaned forward and licked it up, almost sweetly. Vesemir nudged him with a foot and Lambert shuffled closer, mouth nearly touching Jaskier’s cock, and the bard could feel his warm breath and stifled a moan. “Do you want to taste him, pup?”

Jaskier watched as Lambert nodded so hard he was afraid the Witcher’s head would detach. “Then come here.” Jaskier held his breath as Lambert leaned forward, mouth open and hot breath bathing his cock. “Don’t tease, but be gentle. Jaskier has been very good to us and deserves a reward.”

Lambert nodded, and engulfed the head of Jaskier’s leaking prick, slowly laving his tongue along the head and shaft as he slowly sank down, all the way to the base. Jaskier cried out at the feeling. He was not a small man, but compared to the size of the cocks Lambert liked to take, it was no surprise that the young Wolf took him with absolutely no trouble. 

The feeling of Lambert’s skilled mouth around his cock had Jaskier trying to writhe and thrust up as he felt himself unraveling. Vesemir’s strong hands gripped his hips, pinning him in place. It was maddening, but oh so fucking good, and Jaskier moaned loudly, eyes clenched in pleasure, unable to express himself any other way. Lambert didn’t seem to mind the noise as he hummed and tongued just under the head as he pulled back, then dove back down.

“Fuck, fuck. I can’t… I’m gonna…” Jaskier managed to wrench his eyes open, and his vision was filled with the sight of Geralt and Eskel, standing behind Lambert, hands on their cock as they stroked slowly. Their eyes were trained on Jaskier and the knowledge that he was the center of their focus, their entire world, right at that moment, had him hurtling over the edge. 

He wasn’t sure how long it took until he was lucid again, but he found himself lying on the thick fur rug in front of the fire, cradled against a firm chest, a warm wet cloth running over his skin. He blinked heavy eyes open to see Geralt holding him, checking him over. He rolls his head against the broad shoulder and is greeted with the wonderful view of Lambert sucking on Eskel’s cock like a man starved. Vesemir is still in his chair, watching indulgently. 

Jaskier would love to participate, but his head feels like pudding. To be honest, he’s surprised his brains didn’t leak out of his dick. Between the fire and Geralt’s body, Jaskier is warm and his belly is full. Plus he’s exhausted. He thinks he’s rather going to enjoy being exhausted during the winter here, so long as it's preceded by this sort of activity.

He yawned then tried to hide it, which made Geralt chuckle, making Jaskier aware of the hard shaft pressed against his back. “Let’s get you to bed, lark. You’ve been busy today.”

Jaskier debated arguing, but he was too tired. Geralt nudged him more upright, then stood, and Jaskier sleepily held up his arms. He was not standing up. He wasn’t sure he  _ could _ .

Geralt rolled his eyes, but bent down, picking Jaskier up with ease, and carried him to the wide, comfortable bed. The fur covers were already pulled down and Geralt set him down gently, pulling the furs up to cover the bard. Jaskier rolled to his side, facing the fire and his Witchers, as Geralt bent down and kissed his forehead. The Witcher wasn’t worried about their further activities waking the bard, as Jaskier slept like the dead even when he wasn’t completely fucked out.    
  
“Go to sleep, Jaskier. I’ll be in soon.”

Jaskier nodded sleepily and blinked slowly as Geralt moved back to the Pack and perched neatly on Vesemir’s lap. He blinked again and saw Lambert swallowing hard as Eskel gripped his hair. Another blink and Lambert was bobbing his head, first on Geralt’s cock, then Vesemir’s.

He went to blink again... and slept, visions of his Witchers filling his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. We know you have been waiting, we hope this chapter makes up for being late. If you like this work, feel free to tell us what you liked in the comments, and make sure to subscribe to get the latest chapter updates!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us through this story! Comments are the fuel that keeps us going.
> 
> We have run out of backlog, but we're still working hard!  
> There is no longer a posting schedule, unfortunately, due to this chapter being more stubborn than Lambert. But we will continue to update as soon as we finish a new chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Kate and LJ's fault. You know what you did. The rest of you on the server only enabled us further. I hope you're happy.
> 
> This fic will update on Wednesdays while we continue to write it and we will switch to a biweekly update schedule further into the fic.


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